Intervention of Ana -dark fiction-
by MandiRei
Summary: When the depth of Elena's depravity becomes apparent, combined with Christian's reliance upon her, Ana must escape her marriage. But how does one leave a hubby who won't-or-can't let go? [ a psychological look at the sub-context of canon regarding emotional slavery] *Not a typical HEA/AU/OOC* [A look at canon Grey & Elena's dynamic, expanded: Adult themes, twisted fiction, mayhem.]
1. Author's Note

**AUTHOR'S NOTE TO READERS [edited 11/20/14]**

* * *

_**Well, hello there.**_

**I see you clicked on my story and instead of diving into an AU experiment starring Ana and Christian, you're reading this as a disclaimer that the following chapters house darkness and misery, and if you aren't a fan of thrillers, now is your chance to escape unscathed. I am not lying when I say that this is full of DRAMA and ANGST as shown by the genres listed in my description. The male lead is a conflicted and unhappy soul who will not be portrayed in a happy and glamourous light. If that's not your comfort zone, bail out now.  
Consider yourself warned in regards to the content.**

_**If you're looking for the story and don't care about technicalities, just hit NEXT CHAPTER and away you go**__**.**_

* * *

Once upon a time there was a lengthy author's note explaining why I'm tackling the perspective on certain characters that I use in the crafting of this story. Decided to shorten it up and keep it sweet. The full original author's note can be found at** wp . me / p3Jr6y-9K**

Christian Grey brought BDSM into the mainstream, helped make erotica go commercial. But there are certain personality aspects he has that are of concern and make him less than attractive to me, personally. Specifically, his very controlling yet fickle nature. This story plays up his need for control and how Elena exerts her own brand of nefarious control over Grey and his marriage to Ana. Elena is totally a villain, and I ran with that. Grey has demons yet untamed and I run with that, as well. Ana has to find herself as her own identity became tied into her husband's, basically becoming an extension of him. She loves him, but can't reconcile his control over every aspect of her life or his dependence upon Elena, most especially when it intrudes into their marriage.

This is a very dark, not terribly romantic story, so if you're looking for a Happy Ever After, just bail out now- you aren't going to find what you want in my neck of the woods. Sorry. It won't end in a way you like. If you don't read Stephan King, Dean Koontz, or Thomas Harris, you won't like the thriller/murder/mayhem aspects in this tale. Please consider yourself warned. I know the characters aren't exactly canon- I have played up a certain personality aspect in each- Grey has his control issues; when thwarted he gets furious and acts out. Ana is indecisive; she loves him and knows she can't 'fix' him because he doesn't see anything wrong with some of his certain behaviors yet can't find it in herself to leave on her own gumption. Taylor has mixed feelings of working for a powerful man who does some morally wrong things. Elena is a master manipulator on an international scale and has brought Grey into her schemes without his knowledge or consent and tried through Grey, to strike at Ana. All of these personalities are almost caricatures of the originals, so that one personality flaw is exploited and explored.

INTERVENTION OF ANA is not for everyone. Like_ natto_ or _Valdeon_, it's an acquired taste and so consider yourself warned, kind reader.

You will also see interspersed through the story, more Author's Notes- and toward the end, a very long one. As mentioned often, this story tends to strike a chord with certain people who seem to react by writing personal attacks or stalking rather than addressing the matter in a calm and rational manner. I haven't decided if I'll remove those notes, as I do feel they point out valid things to consider, including my somewhat spiteful nature (still using the rule that every personal attack on me will result in one more chapter to this tale) when provoked.

Yes, I entertain perspectives seemingly at odds with the fandom; you are under no obligation read this tale; please note, I keep my perspectives in this story only- I don't go around the fandom advertising this point of view or telling readers they HAVE TO read this story or they are endorsing not pleasant things like rape culture (aka_ treat me like shit, but buy me something pretty first,_ or to quote Chapter 25 of FSoG_:_

_ "It's what he wants – and after the last few days… after all he's done, I have to man up and take whatever he decides he wants, whatever he thinks he needs.")..._

Please note, I don't have a problem with BDSM when safe, sane and consensual. For really-reals. Unfortunately in the original books, Grey has a tendency to punish Ana when she defies him by using sex or BDSM against her and that's not cool. When one agrees to consensual violence, there are boundaries not to be crossed, and when Grey got upset with Ana for safewording, it killed the whole notion that he was in it for shits and giggles.

Especially in Chapter 26, Starring the Belt and Christian's admission that he'll deliver 6 blows as a reminder why she is not to run from him regarding their earlier game of Tag _and_ life in general. Granted, she wanted to know how bad it could get and she did ask for it. But to use it as a statement of ownership really bothered me.

Well, that and this little passage from FSF regarding why she whipped out the safeword: "_What can I tell him? That he frightened me. That I didn't know if he'd stop. That I begged him- and he didn't stop. That I didn't want things to escalate… like-like that one time in here. I shudder as I recall him whipping me with his belt." _He admits he's glad she did safeword because he had gotten carried away. Aka, lost control. And that'd be okay and I wouldn't have an issue with it until he says later in the chapter:

"_Reaching over, I take his hand. "You're really shaken by all this, aren't you?"  
He snorts. "A deranged asshole gets into my apartment to kidnap my wife. She won't do as she's told. She drives me crazy.** She safe-words on me**." He closes his eyes briefly, and when he opens them again, they are stark and raw. "Yeah, I'm pretty shaken up."_

**He counts _her_ want to ensure _her personal safety_ because she was genuinely afraid of him as a_ negative,_ which he confirmed was a valid concern since he got "carried away" and admitted as much._  
_**

_Those are EL James' own words_. That is what spurred this story's creation, this complex and not-exactly linear thought patterns which just get my creativity running amok with the possibilities regarding personal conflict.

As I see it, all the authors on here are using the same clay provided by FSoG to sculpt something different, and their views are as valid as my own. Not everyone cares for the same flavor of ice cream, and this one is up there with Morimoto's Trout Eyeball Ice Cream- it's not for the unadventurous and those with tunnel vision of what ice cream _should_ be.

I wish you happy reading with this story or the many others that may be more to your taste in this fandom.

-Mandi Rei


	2. Chapter 1

I looked in the mirror, taking in my lank hair and the dark circles under my eyes. I always ragged on my looks, but now, those rants were justified, if pre-emptive. I tilted my chin up and noticed red finger marks on my throat.

"Bitch," my Inner Bitch Goddess crooned, "we need to talk." She tapped her foot and wore a sneer. Was she mad at me? What did I do this time?

Oh no, here it comes. The Inner Bitch Goddess inquisition. She rarely addressed me as such, but when bitch flies from her imaginary mouth, I know I need to pay attention.

"Remember on your honeymoon, you did like everyone else on that European beach and took off your top. He bruised you so you couldn't do that again. That was after he made a huge scene. He was worried about the paparazzi? Why carry on like a spoiled toddler then? And go on to bruise you as punishment? Excessive, don't you think?"

"They were hickies!" I retorted. Surely she couldn't forget that he was buried nut-deep in me when he branded me as his. I enjoyed that he liked fucking me, because that means he's not having sex with another, especially one of the evil blondes he always employs.

"They were bruises! He punished you for exercising your free will. That on your neck right now, those aren't hickies. He grabbed you because you were walking away during an argument. Remember how ugly your wrists looked? How embarrassed you were that the jewelry store sales associate saw them? She knew Christian was bribing you into compliance. Some sparkly stuff to hide the marks, and you won't squeal."

"Shut up, you! Drink some tea, why don't you?" Choke on it, too.

"Take your own advice and don't let your husband get you drunk. You cannot trust him."

"Why are you being this way?" I wailed at the mirror, willing the voice inside my head to just shut up with the logic. Logic requires thinking, and Christian hates it when I think and do things I see as justified.

"Because your husband scares me. He scares you."

"Only when he gets mad," I replied. When I mind my P's and Q's, Christian buys me stuff. It's so hard for him to tell me how he feels, so I just know when he spends his hard-earned money on me, that's how I know he loves me. He wouldn't spoil me if he didn't care. Doesn't my Inner Bitch Goddess know this?

"So you walk on eggshells to make sure you don't provoke him. That's true love, there, sweetie. Wonder if Belle ever thought the Beast would go postal and beat her because he couldn't control himself?"

"I do love him! He's wonderful, beautiful and named his own helicopter! How many people have helicopters, let alone ones with an actual name? We vacationed on a boat. Don't you know that's magic only the wealthy and Leprechauns can buy?"

"You don't love him. You have no experience in life, never lived on your own, and right out of college you get into an abusive relationship with someone who uses you. Uses you and keeps you around because he knows you won't run. You're too scared. He found himself a victim, a toy. And he married it, so no one else can play with you."

"I married him, I can't be scared of someone I married. Sheesh!" I tried to believe what I said. Maybe if I keep repeating myself...

"You married him because he manipulated you like a puppet. Made you think he died in a helicopter crash. Hell, he never once called the cops on his stalker ex who bathed in your tub, who bought a gun and chased you around. That's love, there. He doesn't care about you, just how you make him look."

"That's because Taylor is there to protect us, that why the police weren't involved."

"Yeah, Taylor did a great job when Christian's ex sub stood at the foot of your bed and stared at you. Remember that?"

I tried not to. Hated thinking about the other women who served my husband.

Those _hussies_.

"Listen, Ana. You are me, and I am you, and you aren't this spineless. You were just in awe of hormones and what money can buy, although you pretend otherwise. Christian is poison. One day, you'll piss him off just a bit too much. Who knows what will happen. Maybe you'll be committed to a psychiatric hospital or end up being a Natalie Wood-style front page headline. Missing, in a helicopter crash."

I didn't want to admit it, least of all to my Inner Bitch Goddess, that maybe she was right. The more I thought about all the circumstances which resulted in emotions overwhelming me because of Christian, I realized I'd been on a roller coast of his making. He cost me my career. Drove away what little family I had by his elitist attitude. Kate, the closest thing to a friend I have, initially had her reservations about him, but I told her everything was okay. I mean, I lied through my teeth and put on a stiff-upper lip because I couldn't tell her everything. What she does know of him, only tip of the iceberg.

Steadily, I studied the face reflecting back at me from the silver-backed glass. My eyes, terribly red. If I were a middle-aged British woman with a penchant for bad analogies, I'd compare myself to the Communist Manifesto.

Sigh.

"Ana, get your head on straight. Do you really want a lifetime of looking in the mirror, seeing the bruises and angst Christian inflicts on you? You deserve better."

"Shut up!" I screamed, not caring that Christian might hear me over his piano-playing.

"The only way I'll shut up is when you get away or he kills us, which ever happens first." The Inner Bitch would not let up.

"I'll never leave him. He loves me." There! If I say it enough, I'll really believe it.

"Then I'll never shut up. Every time you see yourself, you'll see me hiding in your eyes. I'll build up to the point where you break free or you commit suicide, because living in constant fear is _not_ love. If Christian really loved you, he would accept you are a grown woman, capable of making your own choices. He wouldn't hound you to eat, order you on birth control, buy your place of employment to keep tabs on you, nor would he risk your life at the hands of someone mentally unstable, I mean aside from him. The man doesn't care about you, just what you do for him. You give him a sense of normalcy, but in all honesty, Ana, Christian shouldn't have to depend on you for happiness nor you on him. As long as you are in that cycle of shit, I'll be here raining on your parade. Pull your head out of your ass, Ana. What Christian says and what he does are two different things. You're done being fooled, you're done being strung along on an emotional ride with no end in sight. Hit the brakes and get off this tour-bus to Hell."

I bit my lip, glad my husband wasn't here to see my impertinent gesture. "I don't know how to get free. He controls everything I do, everything I see, everywhere I go." His presence covered me, like a midnight black cloak of terror. He found me at a bar by tracing my phone. He could make me disappear, just as easy.

My Inner Bitch Goddess took things down a notch. "There is help, we just need to find a way to get it. Hotlines and websites. Even if you're out shopping, you can use a payphone to call and get help. He might find out, but you know what? If it's not one thing, it'll be another to send him off the deep end. We both know it. Do you want your children thinking it's okay to treat people like mindless property? To coerce and bully to get one's way?"

"No...!" I wailed. I didn't want my children to be afraid of their father's temper. If he could bruise me so easily, what would he do with kids who test boundaries?

"Get out of this marriage, Ana. You aren't alone, I'm here." My Inner Bitch Goddess smiled, encouraging me to take the initiative and set myself free, kinda like that Paul Simon song.

"You are me and I am you," I replied back. With an inner core of strength, I could find focus and find a way out of my quagmire. I mean, I met and married a bajillionaire in less than six months. If I could do that, I can get away from him in half the time.

"Exactly. I'm going nowhere. May I offer one more bit of advice?"

"Sure," I replied. She'll talk no matter what. Might as well get her say out, so we could move on to hatching a plan for escape.

My Inner Bitch Goddess cleared her throat and peered over her pink-tinted cats-eye glasses. "Stop listening to your Inner Goddess. She's a stupid twat who put you in this mess. Seriously, gag and stow her. She's not the one who got beaten with a belt."


	3. Chapter 2

**_ANA_**

* * *

"AnaMaria," my husband called from the bedroom. "I want to talk." His voice gave no option but to do as requested or face the consequences of doing what I wanted.

Immediately, the muscles in my legs felt leaden, heavy. My shoulders tensed, and my breathing quickened into shallow breathes. Those words of his, while spoken kindly, didn't do much to allay the whirlwind of thought my Inner Bitch Goddess unleashed. Maybe she was wrong, and Christopher Christian Manson, business mogul that he was, truly wasn't an abusive husband. Maybe.

Hickies aren't bruises- not from a fist, not like I got hit. Striking a woman, that's abuse. My Inner Goddess appeared and did a little cheerleader routine to keep me on this train of thought. Inner Bitch Goddess threw The Complete Works of William Shakespeare on the ground with a huge thud, prompting Inner Goddess into hiding after sticking her tongue out. At times, I wish they would both disappear. Is it normal to have goddesses live inside one's brain?

"Coming, Christian." Sometimes I wished he'd relax enough to be called Chris, and not by his middle name. Such a mouthful, sometimes. If he can call me Ana, why can I not call him by a shortened name? Sigh. I left the bathroom after splashing cold water on my face, and walked to him with my head bowed down. He always was nicer when I seemed sorry for causing him to hurt me. The more subservient I appeared, the more likely he'll take it down a notch. That was the first lesson I learned for dealing with him.

Christian lifted my chin and looked in my eyes. "Ah, my beautiful, sweet, brave girl. I'm sorry I did that," as he spoke, he let his fingers drift over the red marks on my neck. "But when I tell you how things are, the matter is done for discussion. No arguments. You should know better by now."

I tried not to heave an impatient sigh. "All I wanted to do is hit the mall, like I used to. Personal shoppers are swell and all, but sometimes a girl wants to get hands-on in the bargain bin." Sometimes, levity works on him. If I could keep him from getting angry, then I don't have to worry about his reactions.

His eyes darkened and lips parted as he replied, "You are my wife now, Ana. You can't expect to live an out-moded life of an average person. That is not who you are."

My eyebrows danced a moment as I tried to wrap my mind around his statement. "When malls no longer exist is when I'll consider them outmoded. What's so wrong with me choosing my own clothes and getting some _me_ time?" He fell in love with me, being an average person. Now that's not okay? I kinda resented the sensation of being a dog on a leash, although no physical barrier really held me back. Just the menace emanating from Christian's gaze kept me in check.

Christian shook his head with vigor, as if the motions further bolstered his statement. "You don't have to make those choices, Ana. You're beyond that. You're mine and I'll take care of you in every way. You don't need _you_ time, you need _us_ time."

"That's sweet, Christian." And stifling. I put my hand on his arm and looked up into that statuesque face. "Can't I go incognito and pretend to be one of the plebeians? A non-Halloween Halloween of sorts? No candy, just clothes."

"No sexy costumes." Christian cracked a small smile, which fed the fires of my hope. An idea came to me. Dare I be so bold as to ask such a thing from my husband? Would he agree? There was but only one way to find out. Slowly I drew in a deep breath of air, hoping it'd clear the cobwebs of intimidation from my mind. I had to do this.

I was about to bite my lip in vexation when my Inner Bitch Goddess put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed some reassuring courage into my body. "I was wondering if we could acquire a female bodyguard, so I could go shopping myself and you won't have to worry about little ol' me." I waited on bated breath for his reply.

Slowly, Christian began to nod. "I like that idea. It will free Taylor up for other things. I'd hate for him to follow you into a department store changing room to make sure you're safe."

I tried to hide my giddiness. "May I interview the applicants? Privately?" If I can ask them questions, maybe I can find one whose loyalty will be mine, not Christian's. I need someone I can trust, someone who isn't already a part of Christian's minions and informants.

"Why privately?" The tone of Christian's voice deepened grew serious. I quelled at the thought of him getting wind of my plan.

Inner Bitch Goddess gave me a thumb up. "Girl talk. Periods, blood clots, bloating, stuff like that. And when I say blood clots, I mean the type that stick to maxi pads, not the type Taylor gets when he takes a bullet. PMS, PMDD, PTSD, you know, just girl stuff. Unless you want to discuss the benefits of Tampax over Kotex? Or the Luna Cup. That's a little silicone collection cup that covers the cervix and is safer for the environment when compared to common menstruation products. Maybe I'll find someone with knowledge in that department."

Christian's look of disgust spelled out his feelings. He wouldn't wish tampon talk on another male. "Sounds fair."

My Inner Bitch Goddess smirked. Men generally hate chunky lady-bits blood.

"So I can have a bodyguard for my very own?" Batted my eyes and plead as sweetly as I could.

"Yes, and only the best for you. You are like a beautiful jewel which must be guarded, cherished."

"I just want to be me, Christian. Inept, clumsy, me." I took a step away from the power emanating from my husband for a breather. Whenever he neared, I can't think. Part of me goes stupid because the man looks like a statue, perfect in every proportion. The other part gets freaked, because Christian doesn't like people not going along with his decrees. A part of me missed hanging out with Kate in our apartment, cramming for finals. The stress of testing goes away. Not so much when it comes to Christian.

"You aren't inept, except when you don't listen to me. Then I have to make you listen." He gave a small smile to soften the blow. 'Making me listen' usually involves him grabbing an arm and getting in my face.

I suppressed my frown. "Could I go shopping with Taylor to pick up some turtlenecks? I don't have any scarves to cover this." Let Christian take another look at the finger marks he left on me. Let him see what his anger did.

He didn't bother to look. "Yes, take Taylor. He drives, though."

"Why did you buy me a car you won't let me drive?" That truly puzzled me. Why replace Wanda when I can't even drive the nameless beast he gave me? It's the control freak attitude which really grates on my nerves. If I tried pulling the same stunt with Christian, it'd fly like a lead brick.

"Because you are mine. Body and soul. I will never let you go, Ana. I never give up on that which I consider mine."

My heart sank. To be loved, is a wonderful thing. But people need space to breathe, and I feel like I'm gasping at the last lungful of oxygen before my head goes under for good.

Getting a female bodyguard can't happen too soon.


	4. Chapter 3

I tried not resenting the fact that Taylor gets to drive the car my husband bought me to replace Wanda, my old VW Beetle. My Inner Bitch Goddess had no such qualms about stewing in the "AnaMaria Gets Treated Like An Imbecile" soup. At her behest I asked Taylor, "Can we pull over? I want to drive."

Taylor cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable at my request. His military precision with handling the car seemed interrupted by the tiny swerve he made when the question sunk into his brain. "I am under orders from Mr. Manson to be the only driver." His gruff voice seemed small within the confines of the car as we drove down 202, one of the veins of Redmond, Washington.

Clearing my throat to give me a moment to form a response. "My husband bought this car for me. To replace the one he had _you_ sell. I drove that car all the time without maiming or killing anyone. Why the hell won't he let me drive _my car?_" The last sentence was uttered as a rhetorical question. Didn't think Taylor would answer, at any rate.

When Taylor did reply, his words didn't cease to amaze. "Just between you, me, and the steering wheel, he won't let you drive because you aren't submissive enough to suit him. Compared to his playmates in the past, you've got a backbone that needs some bending. You want to drive? Then learn to wear the mask he wants to see as you." He then frowned. "If the boss knew I said that, my ass would be without a job."

I understood what he meant. "I won't tell him. You have my word."

Taylor gave a short nod of his clean-shaven head. "I don't mean to get into you or the boss's business, but _I hear things_. Not things I'm comfortable with. I get paid for my compliance of his orders- it's generally straight forward. If you don't mind me saying, the ladies before you were of a different sort. They knew his game and could play along for shits and giggles. You... you aren't that kind of person. I may be his employee, and there's not a lot I can do without losing my job and getting blacklisted. I will do what I can, but I can't make promises. I got a daughter to support, and I need this job."

Although he didn't say anything of the like, the tone Taylor used made me think my husband somehow has Taylor's family under his thumb. It wouldn't be out of character for Christian to use any means at his disposal to keep someone in line. As the treed cityline of Redmond passed by the windows, I repsonded, "I asked him if I could have my own body guard and companion. That way I don't have to drag you shopping with me since I can't even shop alone." I heaved a sigh of irritation, and my Inner Bitch Goddess patted me on the shoulder. Her eyes, an imagined manifestation of my own, glimmered with a plan. Taylor said as well as he could that he'd help a little in regards to dealing with my husband. Might as well put it to the test. "You would know this sort of thing. What are the top personal security companies, and what should I look for when it comes to picking one out?"

"You need to look at this tactically, Mrs. Manson. You need someone with skills. A military background is best- they got all sorts of special survival training. Make sure your prospective companion is open to teaching you some self-defense- you never know when you're going to need that." _With your husband _went unsaid. Before I could speak, Taylor carried on. "Top company in the business is Xerxes, Inc. Anyone hired from NosNam is already an employee of Manson Industries. That's a little umbrella entity of his. So, if he suggests someone from there, pass it by if you can."

What I found amazing about this conversation other than Taylor showing me a side of him I never knew, was his willingness to help me get around my husband's controlling nature. Granted, this came at a cost of not causing Taylor to lose his job, but I could respect that. If my only ally in the house against my husband is the man paid to keep my husband out of trouble, then fine. As much as my shopping outing has surprised me, I found it inspiring, nay, empowering to know that when in those walls, at least someone gave a crap about me.

Taylor drove to Redmond Town Center, which is as mall-like as one can get. I smiled. "I am so tempted to not hit the department store and just go window shopping."

He shrugged his broad shoulders and smiled. "Frankly, Mrs. Manson, if you want to wander around, feel free. I want to go get some gifts for my daughter. Do whatever shopping you like and we can reconvene at the food court in about eighty minutes, if that's okay with you."

Okay with me? I've been craving some me time. At least Taylor understood. "This isn't something my husband can find out about, is it?" My mind flew at what the possible consequences could be, nothing good for certain.

Taylor shook his head. "No. Unless he's had the car followed, then it's unlikely he'll find out. He trusts me implicitly." He parked the car and got out. Opened my door for me, and shut it once I vacated the vehicle. The alarm beeped as he armed it via key chain remote, and we walked into the shopping center. He turned right, toward Uncle's Games and I headed to Ann Taylor. I didn't care that my husband viewed anything bought at a mall as being inappropriate for his wife to wear, being that it was mass-manufactured with the potential of orphaned textile-worker children's tears woven into the fabric's weft. I think it was the mass-manufactured part that bothered him most.

Wealth has its place, I'd be a hypocrite to say that it doesn't buy certain happiness. But I'm not the kind of person who'd get all hung up over an oxford shirt hand sewn in Paris versus one made on an industrial sewing machine. Ann Taylor had what I needed, and I found a selection of sheer scarves and a few turtle neck shirts to cover the bruises on my neck left by my loving husband. Paid and left the store with plenty of time before the food court rendezvous. While I was contemplating getting a pretzel from Auntie Anne's, I heard a voice from behind me call out my name.

"AnaMaria?"

I turned around and saw Jorge, his camera ever in hand. "Oh hi. Long time, no see." I offered a smile to go with my words.

He gave a brief grin, revealing his even white teeth. "Well, I would have apologized to you before, if I thought your husband would allow me five minutes of your time without him evesdropping. He hiding behind one of the mall maps?"

I felt blood rush to my face. "No, he's not here to the best of my knowledge. Just his bodyguard who is giving me some time alone."

"That bad, huh?"

I didn't want to meet Jorge's sherry-tinted gaze. He'd known me for years, known me through scrapes of the skin and soul. Considering how things went last time he and Christian were in a room together, advertising my angst would not be an intelligent move. Neither men need a reason to hate each other more. Assuming that's even possible.

"I just missed shopping like everyone else. He may enjoy the prestige of a personal shopper, but I still like having a say in what I wear." This was said while I focused on the tip of his nose, thereby avoiding his gaze.

"Whatever you gotta tell yourself, Ana. If you need a friend, you have my number."

"I couldn't call you if I wanted, Jorge. He keeps a watch on my electronics. He knows the exact amount of texts I've sent Kate in the past six months." I could feel the frown building on my face.

I could see the frown growing on my old friend's face. "Stay here. I'll be back in like, ten minutes." And he boldly strode down the wide, air conditioned corridor linking the stores. So I meandered over to a bench set by some potted plants and waited. Watched kids tugging at their parent's hands, girls walking with a pack of their friends, teenaged boys in skater gear, all meandering about in conversation. True to his word, Jorge shortly returned with a RadioShack bag in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

"Here. Your very own phone. Private number. I already plugged in my phone number under 'Aunt Jilly' that way he won't get as upset as if it had my name."

"I'll try not to make sure he doesn't find it. Aunt Jilly, eh? Well, good to know I have long lost family."

"In more ways than one, AnaMaria. Never forget it."


	5. Chapter 4

With the cell phone Jorge gave me tucked into my bra, I wandered around the mall in a haze of anxiety. What if Christian had others watching me? What if they report that I have contraband, given to me by not just a man, _but Jorge?_ Hell would break out. Things would get ugly. Very, very ugly for all involved. _Especially me_. With a knot of fear growing in my throat, my Inner Bitch Goddess made an appearance and said, "Honey, this is a good thing. Mister Moolah can't trace this phone. You didn't buy it, there's no evidence for your dickhead to get all rawr that you exerted independence. Revel in your secret."

As reassuring as the words were meant, the gadget tucked into my bra could be the equivalent of a noose made for my neck. On the other hand, this cell is a lifeline. I'd need to devise a way to hide it, but I wanted to keep it. No knowing when I'd need it, and if I could get away, it'd come way handy. My mind made up, I went to a novelty store and searched for what I suspected would be in stock- a book safe. Tucked away on my bookshelf, it'd be camouflaged among all my reading material. Finding what I searched for, I decided to hit a bookstore, so that my new hidey-hole would not stand out so much. Maybe find another dust jacket, boring and unappealing to my husband should he get an itching to read something other than business reports or Backpage for once.

Didn't take long, and I was soon laden down with half a dozen books, ranging from Shakespeare to Tolstoy. I tossed the plastic bag from the novelty shop into recycling after moving the book to the bookstore bag. My loot in hand, I searched the food court for Taylor. He sat at a little table, several bags taking up elbow space. He noticed me, stood and collected his sacked- booty. I waited on the outskirts of food court table-maze for he to reach me. Behind him, I saw Jorge's profile as he stood in line to get some grub. As I turned, so did Jorge, and I caught a thumbs up before he moved out of my peripheral view. A heavy sigh locked in my chest, I turned my gaze to Taylor. Almost positive that he saw both Jorge and his thumbs up, I cringed inside as our eyes met.

"I won't tell."

Startled, I replied, "What?" Did he just see me get a thumbs-up by someone my husband black-listed?

"I am not going to tell the boss that I left you unattended. He's going to see all the bags in the back, he's going to ask about them. You helped me pick out the stuff for my kid. He'll be pissed if I shopped on the clock without his consent."

I nodded, getting into the swing of things. "I made you go shopping for your daughter. Blame me, tell him I suggested it. If there's a plushie in one of the bags, tell him I bought it for her."

With a smile, he said, "Yes, ma'am. Can do."

We drove home in silence. I didn't begrudge him driving my car. Although he didn't know it, he would be my ticket away from the sadist I married. As soon as we reached home, Taylor fetched all the bags from the car's trunk and carried them inside. I took my book-filled bag and went to a guest room. After pulling out the hollowed-out book, I quickly dug the cellphone from my bra and hid it. It lay with all the others on the white-lace duvet covered bed, and looked just as innocent as all the other works of literature. I could feel a smile split my face.

Arms wrapped around me from behind while my husband's mouth breathed heavily by my ear.

That alone was enough to wipe the emotion from my face. I sought to not betray either of the men who helped me today. "Just did a bit of book shopping today and I'm trying to decide what to read first and which gets priority on my top book shelf."

"You and your books," he murmered.

"You and your business." I spoke clearly, almost too loudly.

"Hey, I'm here with you right now. That has to count for something, right darling?"

The first thought to pop into my mind was that I had to buy clothes to hide the bruises he gave me today. Did I want him here right now with me? No. I'm just glad the mirror in this room is behind me so he couldn't have seen me put the cell inside it's hidey hole. I swallowed hard as the thought that maybe he did see, and that's why he's here right now entered my mind. Mustering as much testicular fortitude as I could, I turned around and faced my husband. "It does count for something." I offered a smile I didn't feel. "I spoke to Taylor about the companion I wish to get. He has been very helpful with the sort of qualifications I should seek. I think I can find someone even you would approve."

A genuine smile shone from Christian's face. "That is good news. I've got better news for you."

His hand reached out to cup my breast, and I settled into his grasp, thrilled that I had a chance to hide the phone before his hand touched its exact hiding spot. The hand trailed from my breast to my neck, which he grasped with what I was sure was just a hint of malice.

"If you want that companion, you're going to earn it."

I knew what that meant. A trip to the Magenta Room o'Torture. "Why? Why can't I have a bodyguard without being abused?"

His hands fell away from my body and he gave me a little shove. I fell forward onto my books while he stood before me. "You think I abuse you?" His hand on slim hips seemed a menacing pose.

"Yes. I do think you abuse me. Why else do I have to bargain for something you take for granted? Can I have a bodyguard? No? I have to be tormented first before you'll let me have one. That is what you basically just said. I had to go buy scarves and turtleneck shirts to hide the bruises on my neck—bruises you gave me because I disagreed with you. How long have you been seeing Dr. Flynn? Because please bring up at your next appointment the tendency you have in response to being challenged by someone who is not you." Knowing Taylor gave a fuck pretty much gave me a high and so I let loose all the stuff that had been clouding my mind. "I loved you, Christian. But I thought my love could change you in the ways Dr. Flynn seemed to fail. But you don't want to change. You want to bully. So if me getting a bodyguard of my own means I have to be tortured, then fine. I'll pay the piper, if the piper demands that payment."

The fists dropped from his hips and he sunk to his knees. "You really feel that way about me?" The tender child in his eyes was a lie—a manipulation he used too many times on me for me to whole-heartedly believe the hurt tone he used.

"Yes. You prove it time and again. I wish you didn't, but you do. You hurt me when I anger you." And I'm almost positive that he'd come up with a comeuppance for me having unloaded on him.

"I can change."

"Can you really? You've said it many times before, and yet here we are."

"I will change. I'll show you, baby."

And in the pit of my heart, I knew it would be superficial at best. He loved nothing more than power, and after having such a heady mistress, I knew deep down he could never give her up.


	6. Chapter 5

"Christian, you must take her to task. You cannot let Ana act that way and think its fine."

Yes, I should not be standing outside the music room when my husband spoke to his ex-abuser on speakerphone. I'm assuming he thought the music playing would cover the sound of their voices. But no, I could hear Elena's douche-bag tones through the walls. If anyone deserved a kick in the ass, it was that bitch. Christian, too, deserves a smaller kick to the ass for still talking to her, keeping her in his life. Couldn't he see the damage she did to him? She made it impossible for him to have a normal relationship, and what's worse is that he can't understand that nugget of truth. But now, my anger at Christian discussing me with her, and her encouraging him to take to task, was equated to them dumping gasoline on a bonfire.

My husband's voice sounded strong, but I'm sure she heard the waver. "I've taken her to task. It doesn't work, Elena. Nothing works on her."

"You need to find the right torment, Christian. The right spur to the side will cure a multitude of behavioral issues. Have you tried _Bastinado_?"

I had no idea what Bastinado was, but the way she purred it, I knew it wasn't good.

"No. I didn't like it when you did it to me."

"But did you ever jerk off in the bushes again?"

"No, ma'am."

This conversation just revealed an aspect of my husband I could have lived all my days without ever knowing.

_Oye._

"Find something, if you want your marriage to that dolt to survive. She doesn't know how good she has it. Remind her."

A moment of silence filled the space before he spoke. "She said I am abusive."

A sharp bark of laughter from the pedophile came through loud and clear. "No, you're kinky. You're masterful. You are the king of your realm. You are many things but abusive? The dolt doesn't know the meaning of the word."

"What if she goes to the police? Leaves me?"

"You have the power to change that, Christian. Take her somewhere. Give her a thrill she approves of, and then she'll have nothing to bitch about. Play her like a fiddle. You have that ability."

"Ana said she loved me. Not loves."

"Every woman has a dream. Maybe she's waking up."

"That can't happen. She can't leave me."

Elena's voice turned sickly-sweet. "She won't. I'll help you and your marriage, even though I despise her."

"You're the best friend I have, Elena. Thank you."

"You are my favorite protégé, Christian. I'll do what I can, but don't let her know."

_Ha ha, bitch! I already know! One step ahead of you guys…_

I turned around to head back to the bedroom. Lurking in the shadows, a hulking form stood leaning against the wall. Taylor. He put a finger to his lips in a gesture of silence. Walking to my room, I head his footsteps retreating. With Christian occupied with the banshee, I headed to the bookshelf and retrieved the book safe. A book about the life of Elizabeth Tudor, Queen of England—something Christian would never read. Opened it, pulled out the cell. Shot off a text to Aunt Jorge.

_Told Christian he was abusive. Says he'll change. I'm going to get away. Anything happens to me, it's him and Elena Lincoln._

Check in with me every other day. If I don't hear from you for a week, I'm going to police. –Aunt Jilly

_Thank you._

Stay safe. Go put this up, you don't want to get caught.

I did as he said after I deleted the text conversation, both elated and apprehensive. Jorge is absolutely correct, I don't want to get caught. Especially with those kinds of messages. Instead, I turned my attention back to Christian and Elena's scheming. Anything he does will be a salve, but for how long. Can he really change? Or did Elena's abuse truly send him over the edge and he was totally incapable of having a considerate relationship? I don't want to give up on my marriage, but I can't stay married to a man I fear, and Christian does scare me. If I anger him, he hurts me.

My Inner Goddess sulked in the corner, unhappy with my train of thought. Give him up, give up the financial security, the glamorous life, the trips and special treatment?

I'm okay with that, though. I was fine with it before I met him. And while I have changed, grown up even, I could go back to working for my rent and food. Being a pampered woman to a temperamental man was not a good gig. I just want to live without fear.

The thought of my new security detail filled my mind. I need to find someone soon, someone trustworthy. But if they are being paid by my abuser, will that make them beholden to he who has the cash? Or would their loyalty be mine for certain? How would I know before it's too late? Anxiety surged through my being. If I mess this up, there will be no do-overs. He will never give me the chance. If I think it's bad now, how horror-show will it get if he finds out I want to leave him. A part of me wants to give him another chance, not walk away from my marriage like my mother has done so many times. I want to give him benefit of the doubt.

The conflicting feelings dancing inside warred with my sense of self-preservation. I told Jorge I'd leave Christian. With a huge breath of air filling my lungs, I exhaled slowly. I'll give Christian one last chance. And once he strikes out in anger, I'll make my escape. That's what I'll do. Then he can't accuse me of leaving him for no good reason. Perhaps he can have Dr. Flynn explain to him why I chose to leave, and Elena can dry his tears while plying his arse with a riding crop while he used a horsetail buttplug. I half-laughed at the mental image of my 'masterful' husband neighing like a naughty pony.

And with that, I fell asleep with what I'm sure was a shit-eating grin plastered to my face.

Freedom.

Heat engulfed me. So hot. Woke up to Christian wrapped around me like a vine. He needs a body pillow. It'd make this so much more comfortable for me. His foot began sliding down my leg, back and forth. I sighed deep knowing what he wanted.

"Ana, are you awake?"

"Huh? Am now."

"I want to do something special with you. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?"

"I…I don't know. Can I think about it?" I'd have to let Jorge know I'd be on a trip, that way he doesn't think the worst happened. I'd fill him in on all the details, and that way he'd have the knowledge.

"Sure. But think about it soon. No session the Magenta Room for it, either."

I could see Elena's hand at work and I tried not to scoff. "Alright. I'll let you know by dinnertime where we are going."

His arm tightened around me, while his breath blew on my neck. "Good. There's a new world I want to explore with you. I don't ever want to let you go."


	7. Chapter 6

I spent all day in a state of mild agitation. My husband wanted to take me somewhere, at his childhood abuser's behest. Other than upset that she is involved in my marriage, I felt angry that Christian knows how I feel about her, yet he still picks her brain whenever he's stumped.

Where did I want to go on this vacation the pedophile suggested? As a gesture of independence, I began thinking of places he'd never think to take me—places well populated and still stateside. Maybe California? Never been there, and having married someone who could well afford a little jaunt, I put my mind to just where I'd want to see.

There would be no getting around the trip. Not even going to try. But I won't let myself be isolated overseas in a place where I don't speak the language or would need an embassy. Somewhere domestic. Quaint.

It came to me. Where my parents got married—a tiny coastal town in Northern California called Fort Bragg. I'd only seen pictures in the photo album Mom kept as a reminder of her first husband, the only bond I had with my father aside from genetics. I wanted to go there, go to the same beaches and see the same sights.

At noon, I approached Christian with my desired place to vacation. Apprehension filled my body because I didn't know how he'd react to something he'd consider staid, if not outright boring. When money isn't an object, could he be satisfied with a modest request? Or would he try to one-up it in his alpha-male way? Would he let me plan it?

My mind lit up at the possibility of planning this vacation foisted upon me. If I could plan the details, perhaps I could engineer a way from Elena-influenced Christian. But I needed to get my own security detail. Can't trust Taylor to help me get away, can't put him in that position. He's got a kid to worry about.

I sighed as I made my way toward Christian's home office. His parents wrote him off after he refused to bar Elena from his life. They were upset that he chose her over them. His siblings, too. Christian's choices have alienated him from his family. And his only friend is the woman to tortured him like his mother's pimp did—and he can't see the harm in that.

With a hand raised to knock on the office door, I swallowed the knot growing in my throat. Three quick raps on the polished wood yielded a bellowed, "Enter!" from my husband.

Papers coated the desk, his computer screen was off. Christian looked frazzled.

"Honey?" I asked, taking the sweetheart route to see where he was on his emotional barameter.

"Yeah? Oh, hey. What do you need?" He asked me, while he thumbed through a file he held.

"I decided where I want to go. Can I plan it? Surprise you with it?"

A frown etched his face. "Why do you want to plan it?"

"Because it'd mean a lot to me. I don't get to do much without permission these days. I'd like your permission for me to plan my dream vacation. If that's okay with you."

He heaved a deep sigh. "I wanted to take care of the details, but if it means so much to you, then yes, you have my permission. Just give me an outline of your idea. I'd like to know what I'm getting into."

I gave a tiny smile of triumph. "I don't want to go anywhere exotic or anything. There's a place in my family's history I've never been, but it was important to my parents. And that's the only wedding my mom had that didn't end in divorce." I don't know why I included that tidbit of information, but it seemed to have a beneficial effect on Christian. Perhaps mentioning divorce put things in perspective of where I stood with him.

"So, where is this place?"

"In California. Can I leave it at that?"

"I…I suppose. Once you get an itinerary set, let me know so I can schedule time away from work."

"Yes, Christian." I could play submissive for a bit. Perhaps he could be reasoned with—his willingness to let me spearhead this vacation both elated and worried me. I'd have to be extra-careful, because any misstep on my part could yielded terrible repercussions.

I need to get my security detail, and use them to help me get away from my husband. Someone to hide behind, learn from, escape with, I gotta make that a priority.

"Is that all?" Impatience sat heavy in his voice.

I nodded and replied, "Thank you, Christian. I'll plan a very memorable trip for us."

Retreating to the kitchen with my laptop, I began asking the Wizard of Google about rental houses in Fort Bragg. Somewhere with beach access. Opened up another browser window, this time googling the security firm Taylor suggested I check out. I sent off an email via the Contact Us option on the website, outlining my needs and providing my cell phone number. Don't believe it'd take long for them to respond.

Another sigh quaked in my lungs. A huge part of me wanted to tell Christian I knew what was up. But anytime I try to assert myself, things get ugly and painful. I'm not stupid enough to openly court his anger. It frustrates me to play the game, but when one can't really trust their spouse, can one really take the kinds of risks that end with hidden bodies?

Okay. First things first. Number one on the agenda, get security. Number two, plan the trip by picking my security detail's brain. If I can find someone utterly trustworthy, I can make my escape, hide in California for six months to set up residency in order to file for divorce. After that… I don't know. Would Christian let me go without a fight? Would I need a restraining order? Would he buy the judge so a restraining order wouldn't be granted? I didn't know, but I've got to try to escape.

Who wants to be married to a man who willingly embraces the pedophile who did more to damage his psyche than the monster who beat him as a small child? I know I don't. He's made his choice, as far as I'm concerned. He's chosen her over me.

No wife should bear that.


	8. Chapter 7

Late at night when I couldn't sleep, I extracted myself from Christian's smothering grasp and nabbed my Blackberry. I sent off a text to Mia, the only link Christian would let me keep with his family. Carrick and Grace forbid him from stepping foot within their property and his brother stopped talking to him to stay in the will. Mia, however... she's more stubborn than all his family put together.

_Mia, you awake?_

Yeppers. Whatcha need?

_I don't know what I'm going to do about your brother._

Uh oh, what did he do this time?

_Anytime he has a problem with me, he turns to HER._

Oooh. He's still talking to skeevy Mrs. Robinson?

_Yeah. I heard them on the phone, and he lets her talk crap about me. Then he does what she says. Don't know what to do. _

What do you want to do? You can't fool me, you have a plan.

_I don't know if I can stay married to a man who looks up to the person who hurt him so badly he can't operate on a normal level._

Does he know that?

_Think he suspects it. He doesn't want me to leave._

That's because everyone but you and me have left him. He doesn't know who or how to trust.

_I thought I could help him, change him. But I can't. I'm just miserable._

Anything else going on, or just the skeevy bitch?

I sighed, not sure if I wanted to tell her that Christian has been known to bruise me. Would she confront him, and if she did, would he retaliate in a more painful and devious way? It scared me enough to lie.

_No, nothing more going on. Just married to two people when I signed up for only one._

Well, sister, if you need me EVER, let me know. I got your back. Us girls gotta stick together.

I smiled as I wrote back, _Mia, I love you. Don't ever change._

Haha, as if I could. G'night.

Time on my phone said it was a quarter past one. A little notification sounded as I received an email response from Xerxes, the personal security company Taylor told me about. Didn't think I'd get a reply in the wee hours of the morning, but hey, it was convenient. At least didn't have to worry about Christian hovering over my shoulder as I replied.

The gist of the email stated that they were accepting clients and would be happy to send over the dossiers on several of their agents for my perusal. If I find someone I'd like to learn more about, interviews could be set up at whatever time I found agreeable. My email aback was short and sweet. I wanted the dossiers, and I look forward to doing business with them. Christian could check the proxy servers he had set up to copy my emails, and that's just fine. Any decisions would be rendered in person, in a neutral area. With my husband's penchant for spying on me, he wouldn't get the chance if I could help it in regards to the person I hope to trust with my safety.

I felt elated, that it was progress on my proactive part in securing what I could of a happy future. I knew where my husband's heart lay, and while I may claim a part of it, a huge chunk of what defined him could only be attributed to Elena. Every time I think of her, I think of how destructive she was and still is. And the worst part being that my husband enabled her. When Grace found out about the abuse and wanted to press charges despite the statute of limitations having run out, Christian plainly told her that if they wanted to do that, they'd do it over his dead body. His mother declared he needed to see his therapist right then, and well, that backfired horribly. Christian accused his mother of saying he was crazy, she denied it and said he needed help.

He disagreed. He literally flipped the expansive dining room table, grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of his parents home.

They refuse to see him until he gets help. I was told not to act as an intermediary between he and his parents- bruises lingered on my back for a week when I called Grace to ask if she could recommend a new therapist I could suggest to Christian. He heard me on the other line, and let me know as soon as I hung up from that call. Since then, I don't dare contact his parents. At least he's okay with Mia. She'll come over ever other weekend for brunch. I'd have to wait a week to see her, but hopefully she'd be open to some girl time. And hopefully, Christian would be too.

Perhaps Mia would have a suggestion on how to work around Christian and his dependence upon Elena. He's my husband, and I did love him once, enough to marry him. It would be my duty to make sure he realizes how detrimental she is to not just our relationship, but to his mental health. It's almost like Stockholm syndrome, his willingness to embrace her in his life. Maybe if he'd been an adult when he and Elena got together, I wouldn't resent her presence so much. But she took advantage of him, hurt him, convinced him she was doing him a favor.

She remarked that Christian was her 'favorite protege' which begs the question of how many protege's has she had, and were they all underage? Is she still active? I knew I couldn't go forth leaving my husband if all he was going to do is turn to the woman who continually manipulates him. He deserves better. I've got choices to make, and enemies to smite.

With that thought, I made my way to bed. Christian lay on his side, hugging my pillow to him. In a way it touched me, to know that I made a difference in his life. But I failed at healing him. He's no better than when we first got together- perhaps a bit more sneaky, but my independence is a mental one at best. The best thing I could do for him as a wife, as a friend, as a human being, was to get him away from that evil bitch's clutches.

Perhaps then, he could heal in earnest.

A wife can hope, can't she?


	9. Chapter 8

"I cannot scrub those texts from the system." Taylor shot a hand through his short hair, frustrated at my lack of care. He stood in the kitchen, back to the wall with a vigilant eye out for my husband as I spoke from inside the pantry.

"So? Let him see that I told his sister I can't handle him. That's a non-debatable fact. The man cannot be controlled." And as long as Elena was in the picture, it'd stay that way. She's got her hand so far up his ass, there's no mistaking he's her puppet. "That skuzzy bitch he fawns over will be the end of him. There's no good way she can participate in his life without fucking it up."

"It's his life to fuck up. He doesn't have to drag you down. And if you keep commenting on his involvement with her, he will not just drag you down, but hold you down."

I heaved a heavy sigh. "Point taken."

"I can't protect you from him the way you need, ma'am. Not if you're going to throw yourself in front of a figurative runaway train."

"He won't dare act out. He's promised he's changed. If he really has, he'll understand why I chose to vent rather than explode my anger at him."

"You might be asking too much."

Whatever Taylor might have said afterward got curtailed when my husband's voice echoed through the large house. "AnaMaria! Ana!"

With a deep sigh locked in my lungs, I pushed my shoulders back and lifted my chin. I'm a human being, I have a right to be treated with respect. Anything he does is on him, not me. "Wish me luck."

Beneath his breath, Taylor replied, "Good luck."

Thanks. By the sound of Christian's voice, I'm going to need it.

My husband sat at the large desk in his office, scrolling slowly down his computer screen. As soon as he saw me in the door, he said in a calm yet masterful voice, "Come inside and shut the door."

A knot grew in my throat. The surge of fear didn't only feed my anxiety, but it gave me something to look forward to and use, if need be. "What can I help you with, Christian?"

With a cock to his head he looked from the computer screen, to me, and back to the monitor. "Why are you airing our dirty laundry to my sister?"

"Because I have to talk to someone, Christian. My head will explode otherwise. If you notice, my main complaint is you involving Elena in our marriage. She did enough damage to you when you were a kid, we don't need her fucking you up nowadays."

With one hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture of frustration. "You don't know how much I needed her in my life back then, Ana. When I needed to get things right in my head, Elena was the one to help me."

I slowly walked forward and sat in a chair on the other side of his massive desk. "The way I see it, she met a kid with a troubled past. She abused that kid by hitting him, just like his mother's pimp did. But then she one-upped that monster by engaging in sex with a minor. So it wasn't just rape, it was abuse. And the worst part is, Christian, is that you defend her right and left when she's done nothing worth defending. She messed up your head so much, you treat me the way I assume she treated you. She seems more of an active participant in our marriage than me. I heard you guys on the speakerphone, I know it's her behind you wanting to take me on a trip. She talks shit about me and talks down about me, yet you still accept her dominion over you and our marriage. That hurts in a way bruises don't, Christian."

That took him aback. "You feel that way?"

I nodded. A part of me was all excited, that finally, I told him what I knew and now the playing field kinda leveled. On the other hand, his potential volatile reaction. "Yes, I feel that way. Have since you told your parents to fuck off and choose her over those who just wanted to look out for your best interests. Your parents love you. I loved you. Mia loves you. No one but you wants Elena in your life. And if you were still a kid and your parents found out about her, she'd be in an orange jumpsuit right now, and justifiably so. Imagine if we had a child who got abused by a pedophile. Could you just hang back and be all, 'dude, it's all good' or would you be on the warpath?"

He didn't answer me, so I continued, lit by the knowledge that he's not on a rampage. Not yet, at least. "I'd be on the warpath if I found out someone hurt my child. More so knowing torture was involved. A minor can't consent to any sort of kinky fuckery, Christian. She didn't just fuck your body, but your mind as well. Imagine what our relationship would be like if she was never a force in your life? We wouldn't be having this conversation. I wouldn't have vented to Mia. You'd still be a part of your parent's lives. We'd be a lot happier, I bet."

Slowly, Christian stood up. The hair on my neck began to stand on end. Why was he coming my way? Did I finally anger him to the point of getting bruised for having an opinion?

He came to my side of the desk and leaned against it. His Oxford shirt still seemed crisp, despite him being at work since six this morning. Ah, the miracle of starch.

"I can't cut Elena from my life, Ana. I _need_ her."

I didn't think my heart could break any more than it already had. The knot in my throat grew immense and cut off my ability to speak for a long minute. "You realize that you've basically chosen her over me? Because that is how I feel. You would rather have her in your life than me. Go ahead and call her, I mean, you're allowed to vent and I am not. Just making sure I get in inequality right for this failed marriage of ours."

Tears began to well in his silvered eyes. "I don't want a failed marriage, Ana... There's still hope for us, you know there is. Give me until the end of our vacation you're planning. I promise we can work this out."

Fat tears streaked down my face. "I want to believe that, Christian." I brushed the moisture away. "I appreciate you speaking to me in a calm and non-condescending manner. Thank you."

"That's not something you should have to thank someone for."

"Yet here I am, doing just that. Maybe that puts our past relationship into perspective?"

"Fair point well made, Mrs. Grey."

Not sure what prompted the change in my husband's demeanor, but maybe I really matter to him more than Elena does. Could be be brought into the light and away from that bitch's darkness? My husband may not be the greatest guy, but if he's actually trying, then I'll give credit where it's due. Could my marriage work out?

A part of me wanted it to work out so I get a happily ever after, but the jaded side of me knew that the possibility of said happily ever after could be contigent upon my proximity to that evil bitch and her influence over my husband.

Can he see the light? Or am I just wasting my time with the inevitable?

Before this conversation with Christian, I was sure I knew the answer. But now... he made that harder. I suppose time will only tell.


	10. Chapter 9

His arms and legs were wrapped around me, as if I were the Nautilus and he the tentacled-Kraken, dragging me down into the hot ocean depths of bedtime.

"Christian?" I extracted an arm and nudged him onto his back. "Christian? Wake up."

Ever since I headed off to bed, my mind has been at war with itself. I couldn't let Elena win by scaring me off- my main reason to get away from Christian is because of his treatment of me. Granted, she was the one who taught him to fail at relationships, but he should have learned something in therapy by now. Elena wouldn't win. I knew it in my bones. But while I may be my husband's happiness, he's not mine, not any more. Not when I say I need room and he responds by smothering me.

With sleepy eyes, Christian peered at me through the dim light of our bedroom. "What, Ana?"

"I'm sorry to wake you, but I can't sleep until I tell you something."

"Can it wait until morning?" His voice was gruff in a way that seemed to warn me of waking this particular bear.

If I waited until dawn, I'd lose the nerve. "No, it can't. I'm sorry, Christian. But if you need Elena in your life, then you don't need me. I'm a want, not a need."

When that sunk into his mind, he sat straight up and asked, "What do you mean? _I need you, Ana._"

"I don't want to say it's her or me. You made that choice already. If you wanted Elena in your life so much, maybe you should have married her instead of me. As it is, I don't feel like much of a participant in your life, not like you made yourself to me. You have the right to vent, I don't. That basic right of humanity, stripped from me. I'm to be an arm ornament, a plaything without a voice. That's not a happy life. I don't want that for my life."

"What do I have to do to keep you?" His whisper seemed to echo in the silence of night. Whatever came out of my mouth would not please him, I knew that. But it had to be said.

I mustered up my courage and said as gently as I could, "Recognize how detrimental Elena is and cut her out of your life. Get a new therapist. Do so knowing I still want a divorce." A deep sigh escaped my lungs. "I don't like hurting or disappointing you, Christian, I really don't, but the life you live is not the life for me."

He didn't get sad, nor mad, nor glad. Christian sat next to me and balled his fists up as he swallowed his emotions. "Is this because of her?"

And in the moment I couldn't help but think that Captain Obvious isn't wearing his cape today. "Yes. And no. But mostly yes. She did terrible things to you and you still seek her approval. That's not healthy. That's disturbing. I'm done being disturbed."

"You can't leave me, Ana. You _can't_."

"I can, Christian. You haven't given me much reason to stay."

With a dramatic gesture, his arms swung about as his temper flared. "Not much reason? Are you insane? Wealth isn't a valid reason to you? Do you know how many women would give their left leg to be with me, to have the opportunities you have? I could use their faces as toilet paper and they wouldn't complain because of the power I have. That never seemed to sink into your head, did it? You want your freedom? _Til Death Do Us Part." _His voice escalated and I hoped Taylor could hear. Or at least the security camera's audio feed, get him on record threatening me. Because there's no way that his last sentence was not a threat.

I straightened my back and thrust my chin out. "Are you saying the only way I can leave you is through death?" Tried not to focus too hard on that sentiment. The thought that the man I married could have contemplated my death didn't sit well.

"That's not what I said."

"Could have fooled me." I threw aside the Egyptian cotton bedclothes and stood up. "It was shitty of me to bring the topic up at this time. I apologize for that. But I'm going to feel the same way in the morning. I'm sorry it didn't work out, Christian."

That snapped his focus onto me in a predatory way. He got out of bed and stalked to me. I turned to make for the bedroom door, but he grabbed my by the arm and held tight. "It only doesn't work out if you don't try."

I wouldn't let him see the tears welling in my eyes. He scared me when he puts his hands on me aggressively. Tried pulling my arm from his grasp, but he only tightened his grip. "Let me go." I meant it in so many ways. My arm, my life- they were intertwined in this moment. My husband's face, mere inches from my own, began to change as his anger peaked.

"I will never let you go. You are mine, body and soul. I paid for you. Given you a life you'd otherwise never have. You can't leave just because you want to, you leave when I say you do." With that spat into my face, he slapped me hard.

Heat and pain swelled in my cheek, but I wouldn't back down. "That right there is the number one reason why I want a divorce. Right there. You said you'd change? Maybe only your underwear, because you are the same abusive jerk I married." The words were growled and seemed to shake him. Me having a backbone? Inconceivable!

"I'm sorry, Ana. I just get mad and see red. Forgive me? Please?"

Could he not see the cycle he was in? Could he not figure it out? Everyone said he was brilliant, intensely intelligent. Maybe in a cold, serial killer way. I'd rather be with someone who could utilize empathy. That, not wealth, was a turn-on to me. "If I forgive you Christian, you'll only do it again to me. Over and over. We're in a cycle. I want out."

His normally attractive face scrunched up into an almost monster-like way. My heart pounded a frantic beat as his fingers dug deeper into my upper arm. The last thing I saw was his balled fist coming toward my face. My last thought, I_'ll escape, if its the last thing I do._ I heard the sound of a coconut hitting a burrito.

Then the black void swallowed me.


	11. Chapter 10

When I awoke, I was nude, sitting down in front on the St Andrew's cross in my husband's torture chamber. My jaw hurt, and it felt like my bottom lip was swollen. Each of my arms was secured by leather straps to the lower section of the wooden cross. My feet were propped up with a black leather ottoman, in such a way that my knees nearly touched my ears. Cuffs held my ankles in place, and the ottoman had carabiners and chains, so that I couldn't shift my position. With my ass pressed against the ominous foot rest and my feet secured by steel, I knew there wasn't an escape possible, not yet. My heart thumped a rabid tempo as I watched my husband.

Christian strode back and forth in his favored ripped jeans while his cellphone rested on the ottoman between my feet. It was on speakerphone, and I could hear that bitch talking to him.

When he noticed I had awakened, he said, "She's ready to listen to you, Elena."

Like Hell I was. "Christian, you better untie me now. This is only making matters worse." My anger started to boil. Not sure what was worse; being in this room without my consent or the Elena was in on this fucked up scene.

Her voice rang out. "Ana, listen to me. You may have this crazy notion that you're his equal. You are not. Without him, you are a nobody. Christian was the same way when he was first being trained. I've told him before, the correct punishment is motivation for good behavior. Obviously he has a soft spot for you, Ana, else he would have utilized the same punishment I used on him. Now, you've given him no choice but to correct your behavior."

"Elena, I just want you to know you can drop dead and go to Hell at any time. Oh, and fuck you for abusing a troubled kid. Piece of shit pedophile."

She gasped. "Christian, ten strokes. If she cries out, add two more for every noise."

The knot in my throat grew and I couldn't swallow to save my life. Christian, however, heaved a deep sigh and fetched a riding crop from the wall. From a drawer of his toy box, he pulled out a ball-gag. Without a word, he strode my way. He laid the crop upon my shins and buckled the gag around my head. The bright red ball forced my mouth wide open and would stifle all sound. I suppose he was being kind in his own way, to keep from adding more blows to my punishment.

His manicured fingertips stroked the crop's handle before picking it up and teasing a line from my knee to my nethers. "Okay, Elena. I'm ready."

"Ana, this is for your own good. Remember that. One!"

With that, Christian swung the crop card and slapped bottom of my feet. Blistering pain snaked up my legs and tears blurred my vision. With the gag in place, the squeal of pain got lost in red rubber.

Elena seemed disappointed I made no noise despite the loud _thwack!_ of the crop against bared skin. "Harder this time, Christian. Pain is purification of the soul. Two!"

Again and again, through ten strokes of pain and muffled cries, my husband obeyed that bitch's mandates that he be the master of me. When the last blow landed, Elena spoke. "There. You survived. Christian?"

"Yes?" His voice seemed leaden. He looked disturbed, but maybe that was just my hope rearing its ugly head.

"So, are you on board for my new salon idea?"

"Sure, I'll have Ros fax over the paperwork."

"Good. Now go and get some rest, you two. Sweet dreams." With that, a little click and the phone line went dead.

I never thought I could hate someone so much. Despite the beating Christian just gave me, I hated Elena more. If she hadn't done what she did to him, this room, the beating- all of it wouldn't exist.

Christian bent down and removed the gag. I worked my jaw and held back my raging emotions. "Why?"

"Why? Ana, you are my wife. I can't let you leave. I'll have no one."

"You've forced me to have no one but you in my life."

"I don't know any other way to be. Sorry, Ana. I want you happy. I don't want to ever bastinado you again. I hated it when it was done to me, but Elena was convinced it'd help you see reason."

"It's not reasonable to hit someone who has a differing opinion than you. You know that, right?" I tried being gentle in my phrasing, rather than snarling the words in my heart.

"Ana. You said you'd give me until after the vacation you're planning. Please, give me that long. I want to change. I don't want you to leave, I want us to have a happy ever after of our own."

Tears flowed anew from my eyes. "How can I be happy when you punch me, tie me up, then beat me?"

"Don't put it like that! It was correction. You need to be taught. Once you understand how you're supposed to act, it'll be much better, I promise."

"You tell me that you'll change, yet here you are saying that I need to change and adapt to your wants. I want equality. And to be let go. Please, untie me from this thing."

He shook his head. "No. Not yet. But soon."

Christian turned to replace his torture implements to their resting places. "You're in a time out right now, Ana. In one hour I will be back and we will talk. I know you don't like Elena, but she knows more about marriage than I do."

"You know, my mom's been married four times, so that would qualify her as more of an expert than Elena, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, well your mom wouldn't understand me and my needs. Silence now. One hour. No longer. Any noise and you'll get the crop again."

I swallowed hard. My husband made for the door and opened it. Turning to me, he said, "Remember Ana, who is the master of his universe. It's not you." Over his shoulder, I could see Taylor as he walked past. His eyes met mine and they rounded in horror. His mouth opened into a little O before snapping shut. Before Christian finished speaking, Taylor gave me a short nod, and turned around to briskly walk away before my husband noticed him. I didn't care I was naked and the bottoms of my feet ached horriblebly. If Taylor refused to help me after witnessing my helplessness, then I'd find a way myself. I know I can't wholly trust him, but he cannot simply turn a blind eye to this shit. I heaved a deep sigh and hoped.

I hated this room almost as much as I hate Elena. And Christian. I used to think there was hope for him, but now... The only hope I have is getting out alive.


	12. Chapter 11

_**AUTHOR NOTE:**_

_I confess. I get all super-giddy when I get reviews because they get my maniacal mind primed and switched into overdrive as I plot this tale (which I have no real outline to; each chapter is written on the fly after I feed off the reviews) and plan the certain comeuppance for one character and the potential death of another. That said, this chapter is inspired by the horror many readers felt from the last installment. No, it won't be horrible._

_Well, not for Ana ;-)_

_Please accept this humble submission as both a thank you for reading this far (huzzah!) and providing the reviews that make me want to crank this tale out just to get more reactions from you all. Those who have left reviews, thank you very much- you're the ones that get me updating frequently!_

_-MRS_

**Now onto our regularly programmed show.**

* * *

Each minute of that hour seemed a week long, surely due to the unnatural posture I was made to maintain. My back cramped and throbbed in a way that seemed mocked by the aches emanating from my feet.

The fucking bastard, how dare he? How dare he take orders from that skanky bitch and how dare she tell me to accept it? If Christian thought leaving me tied up for an hour to meekly accept his dominance over me and my decisions, he's sorely mistaken. All it did was chuck a figurative barrel of kerosene onto an already smoldering fire.

Fucker done gone and pissed me off beyond any point of amicable break up. I won't go after alimony or whatever. I'll take my freedom and be damned glad to have it.

However, I was also curious about the salon proposal Kunty McSkankerson mentioned to Christian. I didn't want him to sign off on it, didn't want it to get off the ground. In that moment, I became determined to undermine Elena the Kunty McSkankerson in any way possible. I'd first escape Christian, find a safe haven, then do what I could to throw a wrench in the works for them both. They both deserved to crash and burn, full body road-rash.

My wrists sweated beneath the leather straps, and I just got more pissed off at Christian. Oh, if he wants submissive, I'll give him submissive. Maybe a little strychnine, too, while I'm at it. With time to kill, I worked on the frame of my escape plan. No telling what my husband has planned- and if I know him, I know that this was but a little taste of my punishment to come. There'd be a grudgefuck, no doubt. His dick always gets hard the moment I do something to anger him, which really isn't that difficult to do.

I need my secret cell phone. Get Jorge to contact my Ray, get him to pop in for a surprise visit. Christian can't nay-say my dad, and if he did, Jorge would make sure the police got called. A potential restraining order. Publicity Christian would do almost anything to avoid. Scandal that would make the Wall Street Journal, New York Times, and all the gossip rags when the details emerge of the abuse Mr McRichypants unleashed. Won't go the blackmail route; gotta take the high road and show my soon-to-be-ex the magic of dignity and integrity. And if shit gets leaked to TMZ, so be it. Perhaps if he didn't want it to make front pages, he shouldn't have done it. Wealth has a tendency to buy complacency from those who have not. A sense of entitlement none dare try to impede.

Asshole is due for a reality check.

Needed to get in front of a mirror, see the damage done to my face. If it's too horribly bruised, then I'd have to put off interviews with my potential security detail. Assuming I get out of this fucking room. Alive.

_Sigh._

I'll do what I have to in order to gain some measure of freedom. And if all else fails, I suppose death is a freedom of sorts. But that's a very-worst-case scenario. He said he'd be back to talk. About what? My new-found repentance for wanting independence? I'd do as Taylor suggested in the car, and wear a mask. I can do this. I can free myself of him. I can give him enough rope to hang himself.

Since no clock displayed itself within the confines of the Magenta Room O'Torment, I don't know how much time passed, if it was indeed an hour when I heard footsteps echo in my ears. The door eased open and Christian stood on the threshold. His body filled the aperture and I struggled to appear meek.

"Ana, do you have anything to say?"

"Yes." This is my Oscar nomination. "I'm sorry, Christian. I just don't know how to cope with you and Elena and feeling so alone." It was truth wrapped in the lie of my tone. I didn't feel anywhere near as sorry as I pretended to be. It seemed to work, though. His shoulders relaxed and he took three steps toward me.

"You are forgiven. Please don't ever make me do that to you again. You understand why I used the gag?" Hands on hips, he made no movement to untie me.

"Yes. So Elena didn't hear me cry and demand a longer beating."

He shook his head in the negative. "It was correction."

"You're right, my soul was purified by the pain." _Oh, and fuck you, too, hubby of mine._

A smile broke out on his face, pleased with my complacency. "Correct."

"Please untie me?"

He shook his head again and my heart fell. "Not yet."

"How long has it been?"

He checked his watch. "Almost two hours."

I saw movement behind him but kept my eyes on his face. "You promised you'd let go after an hour. Please, Christian. I'll be good, I promise."

"No, Ana. You've got a streak of stubbornness that is detrimental to our marriage."

With that sentence out of his mouth, he started convulsing before falling to the floor in a heap, twitching like a spastic. Taylor stood behind him, deployed taser in one hand, a tiny eyedropper in the other. With Christian passed out on the floor, a wet spot staining his chinos, Taylor dropped to one knee and expressed the clear contents of the eyedropper into Christian's open mouth. "It won't kill him, just keep him sedated for a day or two while I get you to a safe house."

Tears flooded my eyes, but not from pain. This time, happiness and hope shone in my soul, the likes I never felt before. "Where to?"

"I've got a friend in California. He's not someone your husband would ever think to look for, could even know existed. The man's a ghost and he owes me a favor."

"What if security audio recorded this conversation? He'll find out." Last thing I ever wanted is him to find me after leaving him. Only ugliness could come of it.

"I disabled the audio and three cameras. Hold on." Taylor left the room, only to return shortly with an armful of clothes. He bent down and unfastened my ankles from the cuffs before moving the heavy ottoman away. My arms were next. Placing the clothing on my lap, he strode to Christian and proceeded to pick him up. "Going to tuck him in bed. He's going to have a nasty headache when the Veronol wears off."

Freed and with blood flowing back into my limbs, I began to dress. After I put my sneakers on, I made my way to the spare room that had my book safe. Once I had it in hand, I'd be ready to bounce out of this house, this marriage and this life.

Freedom was in the air, and it smelled like the urine from an incapacitated asshole billionaire.

And in that moment I felt incredibly alive and eager to meet the man who owed Taylor such a favor.


	13. Chapter 12

By the magic only Taylor seemed to have, we found ourselves at the airport, with my purse. I chucked everything but my driver's license. I needed that to board the plane. He purchased tickets to Sacramento and then fished out a flip phone I never seen him use before from his pocket. He noted my quirked brows and said, "It's nice to have a phone the boss can't track."

I smiled. Why, yes it is.

Taylor punched in a number and waited. Didn't take long for the other end to pick up. With a smile on his face, Taylor said, "Hail, mighty Viking!" and I could hear deep laughter bubbling out of the phone. "Remember the favor you said you'd honor no matter how batshit crazy it is...? Yeah? Good. Because I'm calling on it right now... Yeah. I'm at the airport in Seattle, going to board in an hour. Flight is almost two hours long, then it's another two hours to your place, assuming your longship is still parked in the same place since the last time I visited... It is? Good... Haha, you want to know the actual favor? Fair enough. Your sense of chivalry will love this mission. I am not traveling alone. In my company is a woman who needs to hide from her husband who just happens to be my boss... NO! It's not like that, she and I are NOT an item... I don't mean to sound offended, but she's been through a lot of shit, so just be nice. You can do nice. Yeah? You know what, I'm almost certain she'd be open to that. So it's a deal? Yeah, I'll bring you beer fit for a Virishman." And with that, Taylor hung up.

"Virishman?"

With a nod of his head, Taylor confirmed I heard correctly. "He's an Irish Viking. His truck is his longship. He lives in the woods, hunts boars with spears. Loves his guns."

"So what is it you said that I'd be open to?" I so hoped it wasn't a booty call.

"Teaching you self defense. He's a third degree black belt in Jujitsu, certified to teach. The man also loves his swords. And axes. Anything with an edge, really. Childhood friend of mine. Fergus McAesir will teach you to literally kick ass. And how to hide a body, if you so choose. And cure sausage. The man loves sausage."

I half-way chuckled. The thought of Christian disappearing ala Charlie Tango and taking Elena down with him brought a smile to my face. Don't want to hide his body, just don't want him alive or anywhere near me. "How will you explain this to Christian? He's going to flip once he wakes up."

"Easy. Fergus is going to kick the shit out of me, make it look like I got jumped. You were kidnapped, by who? Don't know, the security cameras got knocked out. I'll be back at the house before he regains consciousness. He won't want to involve the authorities. He'll probably hire a private eye, but won't make your disappearance common knowledge. The thought that his personal tragedy could lower his stocks... well, he won't risk it."

"I've got nothing, not even clothes."

"Easy peasy. Gail gave me money out of petty cash- tasing your husband was her idea. Drugging him with his own secret stash of narcotics was mine. The boss won't miss the money. When we arrive in Sacramento, we can hit a mall or something. Or I can, and you can stay off security camera. Either way, we can get you hooked up with gear while I figure out the next move to make. Did you ever get a hold of Xerxes for an agent?"

"Yeah, they were going to send dossiers over for people I may wish to interview. Guess that's going to be backburnered now."

"Not necessarily. I can intercept the dossiers, send them to Fergie. You can handle your operations from there."

"But how will I pay for them? Christian won't, not when he'll be told I was kidnapped."

"I'll handle it. The bonus of working for the boss is how much he'll pay someone to ignore shit they shouldn't. Seems only right that his bribe pay for his wife's security from him."

I reached out and put a hand on Taylor's arm. "Thank you. On so many levels, thank you for everything."

"My dad slapped my mom around a lot. Frankly, I couldn't handle being triggered like that. When I saw you tied up, bruised... I wanted to kill him with my bare hands. But he's not worth the jail time. I can't give a man like that my loyalty. He's done nothing to earn it, and paying me to be quiet isn't the same as loyalty. So, I guess I'm a double agent. Can't protect a man who ignores common sense, I'm not being paid to be his babysitter. If I do one good thing in this world, let it be that I stopped an asshole from being a shit to his wife."

"Again, I thank you."

"Fergie is the kind of guy who'll sit in bars, looking for a drunk guy picking on a girl. He's slammed so many faces into the bar for being a prick to ladies, gets his jollies on policing dickheads. That's why you're safe with him."

We made our way to the gate where we'd board the Alaskan Airlines flight to Sacramento. I wanted to go to California, but I didn't think it'd be like this, a flight to save me from the mad man I married. It felt surreal, as if it wasn't me copiloting my body. And then I realized the more I asserted myself, the less my Inner and Inner Bitch Goddesses made appearances. The more free I became, the less I needed them to guide my way. And it felt just as wonderful as leaving my husband behind, clad in urine-stained clothing.

I gotta get me a taser.

* * *

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_

So, disclosure time.

Fergus McAesir is based off a real person, whom I affectionately call "The Nameless Immortal" because I've known him since I was seven. And it's true; he is skilled in martial arts, has a sword and spear collection, and refers to his truck as The Longship. If he had a horn, he'd blow it while standing on my doorstoop rather than knocking or ringing the doorbell. This Virish gent has been a wonderful source of support during my own relationship woes. Fergus is making his debut appearance in this story, but will also make an appearance in THE JETNIA PHENOMENON, which is the sequel to A TOAST TO STARRY NIGHTS.

To The Nameless Immortal, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for asking if it was okay to kick the ass of my abusive ex and teaching my kidlets the finer points of Norse mythos and etiquette. You rock, homefry.


	14. Chapter 13

The baggage claim in Sacramento had columns reaching its high ceiling, made from suitcases and chests. Made me wonder if that's the fate of lost luggage, to be made into structural supports.

Taylor made his way to a rental car kiosk. As he did that, I watched the crowd-half expecting to see my husband stalk my way, his monster face on and ready to make me pay for having the audacity to leave whilst I still could. Luckily for me, that wasn't the case. Taylor came back, keys in hand. "Let me have your driver's license."

"Okay. Why?" I handed it over.

"The boss will know you flew to Sacramento- but we're going to ditch your ID in a conspicuous place. Either it'll be mailed back to Washington or someone will use it, create a false trail. The Viking doesn't live on any paved roads, and in any case, he lives no where near Sacramento. Let's go hit the mall, I'll ditch it there."

We drove out of the airport and toward the capital city of California. Passed Arco Stadium, and several high rises. "You familiar with this city?"

"Yeah. Did some training here."

We found ourselves at the Arden Fair Mall. I stayed in the car, which he parked at the furthest point away from any entrance, and got lost in thought. Divorce or annulment? Would Christian try to bribe the judge? What would The Viking be like? How long would I have to hide? Oh shit! Jorge! I needed to call and let him know what's going on.

Fished the phone from my pocket and called him. When he answered, I greeted him with, "Hello Aunt Jilly."

"Is it safe for you to call?" Concern sat heavy in his voice.

"Yes. I'm in California. Christian didn't like it when I told him I wanted a divorce and his security guard is taking me to a safehouse. Somewhere Christian can't find me."

"Do what you have to do, and if you need anything, let me know. I'll help any way I can."

A diabolically gleeful idea hatched in my brain. "Want to have some fun fucking with Christian?"

I'm almost sure I could hear the smile forming on Jorge's face. "Depends on what you consider fun."

"Tell Ray I'm safe, then have him go 'check on me' at home. Christian will have a hell of a time trying to explain me missing. Give Ray this number- no, wait. Christian would try to get a hold of his phone records to see if I'd call him... so nix that idea. Tell him it's for his own safety because Christian is fucking crazy."

Jorge chuckled. "Oh, send the bulldog over to make him shit his pants? I'm down with that. Could be a Kodak moment."

"Let me know how it goes. The place I'm heading is evidently not on any paved roads, so I don't know how cell reception will be. But I'm safe, so don't worry if you don't hear from me for a while. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am. Got it. Wish I could be there when Ray pops in for a visit. To be a fly on that wall would be a prize beyond comparison."

"I know what you mean. I'm gonna go. Take care of yourself."

"Likewise. Don't do anything stupid."

"I won't. Just gonna learn some self-defense and file for divorce."

"Hey-o! Sounds like a plan. Take care." _Click. _

And with that, Jorge hung up and I sat in the car, bored.

Don't know how long it was until Taylor returned, shopping bags in hand. After putting them in the trunk, he opened the driver's door and got in. "I left the ID next to a potted plant in the food court."

"And so the game begins?"

"Yep." He started the car and made his way to I5. North we drove, past the airport, past almond and olive orchards. Sprawling dairy farms, towering rice dryers; this was the makeup of Northern California.

"Where does The Viking live? I can safely assume it's not a fjord?"

"Yes. We're heading toward the tiny hamlet of Stonyford. His family's ranch is out in the hills near there."

Hillfolk. Lovely. Outhouse or a functional toilet kind of place? "Cabin?"

"No. Longhouse. Even has a ram's head over the door." We were now well over an hour into our journy and on a small, two laned road that at its heart really wanted to be a single lane.

"For reals?"

"Yeah. The man is a historian and linguist, too. So, if you find yourself bored, just ask him about his opinion about the Library of Alexandria's destruction."

"Okay..." This drive was taking forever and I began to feel the stirrings of nausea from motion sickness. I closed my eyes and tried to find a happy place as our rental car bounced along the pot-hole riddled road. After a long while, I felt the car slowing down and making a turn. I opened my eyes to see wide groves of oak trees lining a tiny dirt and sand road that cut its way through gently rolling hills. "How long until we get there?"

"Only half an hour. We're on his property now. Just gotta reach the house."

I felt elated that the destination seemed near, that this escape was nearly over. At least I hoped.

The road began to climb craggy hills thick with forest and wended around large boulders. Saw deer, lots of birds. Seemed a peaceful place.

That is, until we drove into the driveway for the longhouse- which was an actual modern home, but it did indeed have a ram's skull with curling horns atop the roof, centered over the dark wood and glass front door. A tall man opened the door, and followed by a huge dog, made his way toward us, blowing a horn. "Hail, McArgus! How is my favorite shieldmaiden?" The Viking wore tie dye and cargo pants. Work boots. No horned helmet. Felt kinda let down. Man, I wish he had a horned helmet. Dark hair, cut short and bright blue eyes. His skin, ruddy from the sun, seemed to glow with his excitement. His mustache was long and braided down into his trimmed beard. Silver beads with knotwork dangled from the braid's ends.

I did a double take. "McArgus?" I looked to Taylor for an explanation.

"There's some things about me you don't know. Jason Taylor is my first and middle names. But your husband doesn't know that."

"You shouldn't keep things like that from the lady, McArgus. Bad form."

"Fuck you, Fergie."

"Don't threaten me with a good time. You know I can kick your ass, now you want me to fuck it. Good gods man, you know how to make my day. I'll even give you a reach around because I like you."

I bust out laughing. The Viking was gay. Not flaming, but more of a Bear. Either way, Taylor's reaction to anal sex and a reach around had him the color of a stop sign.

"I have to get back. But first you're going to kick my ass. Need to look like I got jumped."

"Today is indeed a glorious day." The Viking turned to me, "Get your bags, hun. I'll show you the guest room and then I've got an ass to pound."

I smiled. "I do appreciate double entendre."

"Oh, we're gonna have fun." He dug a silver cigarette case from his back pocket. With a smile revealing incredibly white teeth, he asked, "Smoke weed? Want one?" And I knew that this adventure had only just begun.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Because this is a reincarnation of an earlier tale, I decided to make part one of said tale **_FREE on Kindle until OCTOBER 17._** So if you missed the first (and very different) version of this tale, get a taste of it on me. (Oh, that sounded mildly pervy.)

DARKER SHADE OF PALE - HER ESCAPE

amazon dot com slash dp slash B00DFL9IYK


	15. Chapter 14

_**CHRISTIAN**_

* * *

The sound of birdsong was like a fucking cheese grater to the ears. My tongue felt furry, teeth fuzzy. Worst part? My wife's side of the bed was still made. Showed no indentation from her body. Anger raged through me. Where was she? Why am I in bed? What the fuck happened?

"Sir?"

That single word brought my attention to Taylor. He sat slumped in a chair next to my bed. His face swollen from what looked to be damage caused by nothing less than a mountain troll. Left arm in a sling, normally erect shoulders hunched. The man couldn't even open his eyes all the way. "What happened to you?" I spat out the words with more force than intended.

"The same men who rendered you unconscious jumped me after they cut the camera feed. We got no idea who they are. They took your wife, sir. No ransom note delivered yet."

It didn't take long for the rage to be replaced with fear. Who would dare try to take me on? Who the fuck would steal my wife? I felt angry and violated. The urge to beat something bloody filled my veins. "We don't know who is behind this... how long have I been out?" An hour or two, I bet. Not in cold case territory yet. I'll find those fuckfaces and make them regret crossing my threshold.

"You've been unconscious for two days, sir. The authorities have not been notified. I felt you'd prefer to keep this private. In any case, I tracked Mrs. Manson's driver's license. It was used to board a plane in Seattle. Landed in Sacramento, California. It's been tracked at various liquor stores. Latest hit was in North Highlands, a suburb of Sacramento. I've got a private eye doing the tracking."

"Very good, Taylor. Anything else I should know?"

"Yes. Uh, your wife's father was here yesterday. Said he'd return today. Wants to see Ana. Was very vocal about seeing her for himself. Told him she was out shopping, he seemed content with that. Don't think it'll fly a second time." Taylor looked nervous, and if he looked nervous then indeed this was something to get flustered about. Where was she? Those who took her, did they violate her? And if so, did I want her back?

Yes, I want her back. That woman cannot leave me. Not until I'm ready... and I'm not ready. Don't like acknowledging my dependence upon her stabilizing presence, but there it is. She's my security blanket in a way Elena could never be. The two loves of my life, ever at each other's throats. If Ana never reappears, Elena will rejoice with a bottle of Cristal.

I know she will.

My mind began to wander in the direction of Elena Lincoln. Temptress, Mistress, rotten at the core. Now, philanthropist. Her new idea, a salon for underprivileged children and orphans- let them look like a million bucks, feel special. Video games and toys in the waiting room. No doubt kids from every walk of life would want to go there just for playtime, but the needy would be served first.

It's not a bad idea, but I got the sensation Elena didn't tell me everything. That's her prerogative, and maybe one day she will.

I made my way out of bed and toward the shower. If Ana's father was going to be back today, I needed to have a plan. Should I tell him she was kidnapped? No, he'd go to the police. On vacation? Without me? Unthinkable! Out with Kate... well, that's an option. Or with Mia.

Got dressed, and felt the pangs of hunger tear though my belly. In the kitchen, Mrs Jones sat in contemplation. With a startled yelp, she became aware I had entered her domain.

"Sir! Anything I can get you?"

"Where were you when my wife was taken?"

"Out shopping, sir. Getting items for the dinner you asked me to plan for tonight-to celebrate Mrs Lincoln's new project."

"So you couldn't have seen anything?"

"No, sir. I came home to find Taylor passed out in the hallway, all bloody and bruised. I bandaged him up as well as I could, although I wanted to call 911. Couldn't believe anyone would have the audacity to take the missus!" Tears began to flood her eyes. "Oh, I hope she's safe!"

"As do I, otherwise heads will roll." I meant it with every fiber of my being, I would kill those who took my wife. There would be no Red Room of Pain. Just Hell on Earth for those who thought they could get away with this atrocity.

Despite being hungry, I sought out Taylor. Found him in the security camera control room.

"Do we know if Jack Hyde is behind this?"

"He's in prison, sir. I doubt he has the resources to pull off such a heist. Seems too organized for his type."

"Who else would dare strike against me and my family?"

"Have you made any enemies through your business ventures? Any indigenous peoples who could get backing from a terrorist organization? Angry investors?"

I shook my head. Who would want to ruin my happiness? "Whoever it is has just made an enemy for life. They will pay." With blood and screams.

"We'll find them, sir."

While standing in the control room, I could see a car coming up the drive. By the looks of it, had to be my father-in-law. I could feel butterflies swarming and morphing into wasps in the pit of my stomach. Made my way to the foyer in time to open the door to Ray.

He did not look happy. And that was confirmed the moment he opened his mouth and barked out, "Now where the Hell is my daughter, Grey? And no bullshit about her shopping or hanging with her friends. We both know shopping isn't her favorite thing to do, and I've already spoken to what few friends she has these days. The truth now... because I will tear this house down brick by brick to find my Ana."

A huge lump formed in my throat. I hadn't felt this terrified since my teenage years and fearing correction from Mistress Elena. This man has the power to destroy me. Bribes, they mean nothing to a man like him. Nothing would deter him from his goal, I could see it simmering with rage in his eyes.

"I don't know where she is." I muttered the words as loud as I dared, which was really nothing more than a whisper.

Ray said nothing. He just pulled back a fist and landed an uppercut to my chin. Black filled my vision as I collapsed to the floor. Wasn't out cold, but close. "You better find my daughter, Grey, if you don't want me going to law enforcement. Forty-eight hours, Grey. You better have some fucking answers, or we're going to get to know each other real well as I tear you apart, limb from limb, and leave your carcass for wolves to scavenge." With that stated with military precision, he turned around and got back into his car to drive home.

I never made much of an effort to get to know Ana's family.

But what I knew for certain was that Ray did not lie.

I must find my wife.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

* * *

Well, here's my first Christian POV chapter- hope you guys approve! Let me know what you think in the reviews if I should attempt another chapter from this angle or just stick to Ana's POV. Right now I'm on the fence... but I wanted to have an interaction with Ray that made Christian wish he wore brown underwear to hide the, uh, stains.

Again, thank you for reading this far and letting me know what you think. It's very much appreciated!

-M R S


	16. Chapter 15

_**ANA**_

* * *

My room in the longhouse suited my needs quite nicely. One wall was nothing but a built-in bookcase, filled to the bursting point with both fiction and non-fiction. A queen-sized bed topped with a cushy duvet, a rocking chair, and dresser made up the furniture. The single window looked over a vegetable-flower garden.

I left my room and made my way to the back patio, where I could hear The Viking and Taylor speaking.

"Look, if you don't want some naproxen for the pain I'm about to inflict, can I talk you into a couple bong rips?"

"I'll be fine. Just make it good. I don't want it to look like I got off light."

"Is she a part of your mission?" Those words voiced by Fergie stopped me in my tracks in the kitchen. Mission? Working security isn't a mission, it's a job. What's going on?

"No, the other woman in his life is the target. She's the one calling the shots in the bigger picture. Got to take her down, just have to get proof." Oh shit, he's talking about Elena. Calling the shots? To what, besides my husband beating me?

"Gotta be exciting, this working undercover for the FBI." Holy fuckballs, Taylor is a FBI agent? Undercover to keep an eye on Elena? Oh shit, what has she gotten herself into?

"Well, one's gotta do what's gotta be done."

"They teach you to take a kick to the balls in Quantico?"

"What do you think?"

The Viking laughed. "Oh, I'm sure I'm going to find out in a few minutes."

I figured it was as good a time as any to announce myself and get outside. "Hey." The two men stood next a tiki-bar under a wooden pavillion.

"Ah, just in time for a demonstration. Would you like a quick lesson in self-defense?" Fergie asked with a half-smoked joint dangling from his lips.

I looked to Taylor, and he winced when I said, "Sure."

Fergie glanced in Taylor's direction. "She's got no mercy. I like her."

"Well, I asked you to make me look terrible. I asked for this." Taylor didn't sound too enthusiastic. Couldn't blame him, though.

"Not my fault. Okay, lassie, here's what you do if you're in a bar and some bloke won't leave you be. You poke him in the hip," and did just that to Taylor, who reacted by bending down a bit. "Then you put your hand on the back of their head as they've bent down, displacing their center of gravity. Apply firm pressure in a quick motion," and with that, Taylor's face smashed into the bar with an ugly thud. I bit my lip and cringed.

"If I had known you'd do that, I would have declined. I'm sorry, Taylor."

He got his footing and stood erect. His nose was bleeding. "It's alright. Like I said, I asked for it. Although I was hoping for something a little less time consuming."

"Oh, you want a quick asskicking? Why didn't you say so?" Fergie puffed away on his joint until it began to burn his fingertips. Once he was done, he put the remainder on the bar, put a hand on Taylor's shoulder and asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yeah. Yeah I -"

A fist high-fived Taylor's face. Before he could react, Fergie had him by the arm and twisted it in a very painful looking manner. Taylor grunted in pain. Then releasing him, The Viking began using Taylor like a speedbag, fists flying and the sound of impact filling the silence. I hated looking at the violence, but I couldn't look away. It was consensual violence, and it bothered me.

Didn't take long before Fergie asked Taylor, "You okay? Ice pack? Bowl of hash? Some whisky?"

"Whisky, neat."

"You got it." And just like that, the tie-dyed hippy-viking hurried into the house only to return with a glass half-full of amber liquid. "Here, man. Medicinal whisky."

Taylor took the glass and slowly sipped it. "This your moonshine?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Doesn't taste like Jameson." Taylor turned to me, bleeding and bruised. "The man likes his Jameson."

"That I do, that I do. Smoke mota more than I drink these days. But there's always a good reason to keep whisky on hand."

I spoke up, saying what I felt needed to be stated. "Taylor, you look horrible. Let's go clean you up before you head to the airport."

"Meh, I'll be fine." He didn't drink much of his whisky, which was a good thing considering he still had to drive. He headed back to the rental car and drove off with nary a wave.

I turned to Fergie, who was intent on lighting another joint. "Oh, don't mind me," he said. "I'm a medicinal patient. Rheumatoid arthritis is a bitch. Among other things."

I didn't care that he smoked. Whatever floats his boat. His house, he can do what he wants-within reason. "So what do you do?"

"Oh I do all sorts of things. I make Thor's Hammered Mead, and do internet sales. I hand-forge weapons in time-honored traditions, sell those too." He took the joint from his mouth and held it up. "I also grow Admiral Three Sheets. Family pot strain."

"Okay then. Can I ask you a question about our mutual friend?"

His blue eyes narrowed. "Depends on the question."

"How long has he worked for the FBI? I overheard you two talking."

Fergie whistled low. "Welp, since the cat's out of the bag... well over a dozen years."

"Oh wow. Longer than he's worked for my husband."

"He's undercover. Don't blow his mission. He's worked for years to get this close to his goal."

"What's the goal?"

"I don't have all the details, just what he's told me over the years because he know I won't run my mouth to the wrong people. You're not the wrong people, are you?"

I shook my head. "The other woman is my husband's best friend and ex-mistress AND ex-childhood abuser. She's a skeevy bitch who has her claws deep in him."

"Well, our mutual friend is seeking the head of a child-sex slavery ring. Not just sexual slavery, but child pornography. International stuff. Big time stuff. Multi-million dollar enterprise and at least a baker's dozen worth of countries involved."

"Oh my god." If Elena was behind such a horrific thing, did Christian know? Was he a part of it? His enabling of her... did it tie into such a distasteful and morally wrong enterprise?

"Gods, hunny. Your god owes mine an oak tree."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Just old history, nothing more. So how about we crack open a bottle of wine, I'll grill some steaks up and we can watch Puppetry of the Penis. It's two adorable Australian fellows making Loch Ness Monsters out of their genitals. It's quite amusing. Plus the men are easy on the eyes. It's not sexual, just fun."

"Well, alrighty then. Sounds like a plan. Mind if I take a puff off that?" Never smoked pot, but since I was out from under Christian's thumb, I decided I'd live a little. The Viking, being gay, wouldn't be a threat to any level of intoxication. And to think of it, I'd like to see more penis in my life than just Christian's. The Viking would be a most interesting influence, I'd have to say. Could only imagine what tomorrow will bring.


	17. Chapter 16

**Author Note:**

_Sorry for the delay in updating. Had an emergency with one of my kids and he needed me a lot more than this story did. Life: it happens. I write when I've got a bit of time to myself, which doesn't happen -all- that much, more so when shit hits the fan. You can thank insomnia for my inspiration._

_Looks like readers want Ana to birth the spawnling of Elena's DevilSpawn Protege. Hate to disappoint, but this tale will NOT have that particular twist. Having been in a -very- similar situation, I'm so totally not going to inflict that upon our protagonist. Don't you think she's been through enough trauma? Besides, if she's knocked up, then she can't have so much fun with The Viking..._

_Priorities, yo._

_Also! In the very near future (next chapter, perhaps?) I'll attempt the POV of yet another character. Should be a hoot! Wanna guess which one?_

_Also! I'm cackling like a witch whilst writing (huzzah, alliteration!) this chapter. I'm intoxicated and listening to Weezer and Watsky and Morcheeba. Don't judge me. Just roll with it._

_**...Now onto our regularly scheduled program**._

* * *

_**CHRISTIAN**_

* * *

Elena's office at Esclava was tastefully decorated, as befitted a woman of her status. Crisp white walls, berber carpet, ceiling, and gauzy window treatment. Blood red velvet wingback chairs, heavy mahogany desk. A crystal vase sat on the corner of said desk, red zinnias and hollyhocks emerging forth. She parked herself center on the office furniture, right in front of me. She tried pulling a Sharon Stone in _Basic Instinct, c_rossing and uncrossing her legs to show off her waxed snatch, swinging her legs every now and again in a leisurely manner. I wasn't in the mood to entertain the notion of play. Promised her I'd back her new venture. Today, we're signing the paperwork so she could set up her little social project.

Worry ate at my innards like a ravenous rat. Where was Ana? Was she alright? Did they harm her? Rape her? _Kill her? _What ransom did they want? Who the fuck did it?

"Christian. Focus. You're my favorite investor, and I know that the ideal demographic hits home with you. Speaking of home, how is your little _haus frau?"_

"Wouldn't know. She's been kidnapped." My hands rested on my lap, yet they longed to wrap around the neck of the fuckers responsible.

Elena sat upright. "Really? Haven't heard anything in the news. Do you know who did it?"

"No. They disabled security, kicked the bejesus out of my bodyguard, and incapacitated me."

"What if it's staged? She wanted to leave you. What if she somehow got a hold of someone who could do something so brazen?"

My mind whirled and I felt like I could puke. No, no, no. Ana wouldn't do that. Couldn't do that. She never got the chance. All phones are monitored, no purchases on her credit card. Besides, she wouldn't have lost her driver's license. She'd need that to buy bus tickets or do anything, really. Oh fuck... will a body be found? Where the fuck is she? If she is fucking behind this, woe upon her. She will pay. Bastinado will be the least of her concerns.

I want to know who the fuck is behind my missing wife. I've a person to flay.

"Ana didn't have the means to orchestrate her own escape. I've made sure of that. Songbird in a cage."

"What do you plan to do?" Elena slid off the desk and walked to the the large painting hung on the wall behind the desk's chair. It was a mass of swirling black and red with white accents. With a press of a hidden lever, it swung open to reveal the large safe behind the oversized work of art. It had no keypad nor typical lock. It used a USB thumbdrive with an encryption code as a key. The thumbdrive itself was a work of wonder. It looked like a charm on her bracelet, a little silver locket. Pushing on the bail made the plug pop out to fit in the USB slot on the safe. I watched with a skeptical eye as she fiddled with a series of briefcases. She selected one and locked everything up.

"I don't know. Got a private eye who has tracked her to Sacramento. From there, it's gone cold. Driver's licence was found and used by some kids to buy booze. Rest of her purse hasn't been found."

"She'll be found. You've given her a taste for creature comforts. As soon as she begins using her credit cards, you'll find her. I won't offer my condolences. Those are reserved for if the worst happens."

"I don't know what's worse... if she's dead or if she's been raped." I heaved I sigh. I didn't want any other man to claim her orgasms. They were mine, just like all of her. Another man between her legs... fucking what is mine... someone has to die. Death is the only answer for a fucknut who encroaches on my property.

"Don't think about it, I'm sure your Ana is smart enough to keep a man out of her pants." Elena offered a fake sympathetic smile. I knew she didn't care what happened to Ana.

I looked hard at Elena. Doesn't she know that a man hellbent on claiming something he wants as his own won't let anything in his way? "So one can hope."

"Well, would it help to distract you from this topic? Back to business?" She placed the briefcase upon her desk.

"I signed, you signed. Business should be done." Needed to pace in a manic way, that's how agitated I felt. Go home, run on the treadmill until I'm exhausted. Maybe then I'll sleep.

"You are the first of my American investors, Christian. We should celebrate with champagne." First American investor? Who else wants a part of her project? Why does she need more funding? Two million should be more then enough.

"Elena, I don't feel like celebrating. I feel like fucking something up beyond the point of recognition." And her pestering begged for a slap across the mouth. Yet I didn't dare strike her. What she could do with a shoe heel is enough deterrent for me.

"Well, you can't. Might as well have a glass or two with me." From her little mini fridge, she pulled forth a bottle of Dom.

As she searched for champagne flutes, I asked,"What did you mean the first of your American investors?" I didn't want to spend time with Elena, but I did want an answer.

"Oh, it was just an idea I had... the kids who come here can get clothing from my overseas investors. All they want in return are some photos, you know. For promotional materials and catalogs and such. The little ones can get all dolled up, get their pictures taken and take their new stuff home. Everyone wins."

"Innovative, I guess." Left me with an odd feeling.

"That's what I try to be. Now you, go find your wife and fuck her silly. You'll both need it."

"You're a callous bitch, Elena. I love you for it." And hated her for it.

"Yet you love your wife's twat more." The crass way she spoke churned my stomach.

"She's young and moldable." And imperfect. A jewel in need of cutting and polish to be perfect. A gem worthy of a regal setting.

"Just like you were once."

Shaking my head, I murmured, "No more, Elena."

"Says you." The chiding tone just pissed me off more. I needed to bolt or I'd strangle the bitch.

"Yes, says me." And so I left, aching to find the woman who made my life better just by being around.

_Ana, where are you?_


	18. Chapter 17

_**ELENA**_

* * *

The fact Christian saw my safe and knew what my key looked liked didn't bother me. What bugged me was his insistence on keeping little miss goody-two-shoes around. The dolt is a wet blanket, staunching the blazing passion burning in his blood. He should have ended it in Georgia, like I told him. Did he listen? No. Will he? Doubtful. Always a shining star, yet lately, Christian did nothing but disappoint. By prompting him to use a heavy hand, I thought he'd scare little miss dolt away. Stupid simpleton, she ended up marrying him. Sigh. She royally fucked up my plans with him. At least he's still somewhat useful.

Locked up the office and made my way to my black Jaguar. Easily it would be a twenty minute venture to the rendezvous. Big, big investor. If everything goes smooth, I'm set for life.

With my briefcase in hand, I walked to the designated meeting place as agreed upon. A little cafe out in the airport park. The overseas investors preferred not to linger very long as they caught connecting flights, and some things are best hand-delivered, after all.

Teenage hostess sat me in the back when I asked for a private table. Perhaps if I play the 'busy business woman' card, she and the waitress will leave me alone. Perhaps. A glass of water rife with half-melted ice cubes sat on the table, a gift from the hostess. Didn't need to look at the menu. Dog food, hot off a greasy griddle seemed to be their specialty.

A tall man with an angular face tanned by the sun, piercing black eyes and even darker hair, stopped and looked down at me.

"I'm looking for a special lady, someone who knows her birds." It was code.

"I hear you favor young blondes," I said quietly to the man standing next to my booth. I put my briefcase on the table. He sat down across me and put his briefcase under the table.

With a wry nod, the Investor said, "Well, yes I do." With a gesture to the briefcase in front of him, he asked, "Blondes, I hope?"

"Several."

The waitress appeared, wanted our orders.

"Onion rings and a grilled cheese sandwich. Iced tea, please."

"And you?" The waitress turned her attention to the Investor.

"Cheeseburger."

As soon as she had the order and left, the Investor and I continued our conversation.

"You come very highly recommended for the quality of product you provide. I heard in Hong Kong you single-handedly arranged for a brothel of non-indigenous girls."

"That's because I am a spider on a large web, teaching smaller spiders the finer arts. A protege for every flavor. They give me what I want, I give them what they want. The Hong Kong project was a commission. For a group of gentlemen who missed American youth." Drugs, money, boys, girls... Greed is an easy tool to manipulate. Personally, Hong Kong isn't my shining moment. Ensnaring Christian Grey is by far the rarest pearl in my collection. The material he used to provide... amazing for those who enjoy viewing rough play. That well dried up the moment Ana Muthafucking Steele squealed her snail trail all over him. At least he still had his financial uses.

"A spider... well, if you don't mind, I'd like to check the product before payment."

"By all means."

He thumbed the locks and opened the briefcase. A foam insert held a USB drive. "Beneath that is hard copy samples of the material on the drive. I do believe you'll find they meet your specifications."

Looking around and seeing that no one lurked, he pulled up the insert and gasped. "You do provide amazing work." His hand fluttered through the collection of photos. "There is a rumor floating about that you are to launch a most...how do I say it? Intriguing prospect?"

I couldn't keep the smile off my face. A few well placed advertisements in certain online venues could yield amazing results. Granted, it was just an idea at this point, but with enough interest drummed up would very well make it a reality. With Christian's contribution, I had plenty of funds to get the building, outfit it, bring in some new cosmetologist hires and a photographer of unusual quality. "Yes. A most elegant and amazing salon filled with toys and video games for orphans and the underprivileged. And the option to earn money for modelling. There are several entities in Europe who wish to provide swimsuits for the modelling sessions." These are the same type of men who jack off looking at the Coppertone Baby. Rich, rich men who will pay obscene amounts of money for a tween in an unpadded bikini. Best part? Their guardians won't care. How many little girls wear bikinis during the summer, bought for them by parents? As long as the adults are oblivious to the effect their charges have on certain individuals while wearing certain clothing, then all is well. That's why my idea will succeed. A catalog of moneymakers, each coming back time and again to be groomed and photographed as they grow.

And the potential lay in that if a certain Investor went through my catalog, saw a particular flavor of model... they could convince the guardian to let them "model" in Europe or wherever. And from there on out, I make a ridiculous amount in commission and all is well. Carefully monitored letters and calls home would abate the guardian's feelings and the Investor has a new plaything.

"Here is your payment." With his foot, he pushed his briefcase toward me underneath the table while he closed up the briefcase containing his purchase. "And look forward to doing business with you again. Can you get another flavor? Say, a Snow White and Daddy's Girl? Is it possible?"

"I'm certain I have a protege who can furnish your request." The only protege who failed to provide any briefcases on their 'projects' lately just so happened to be Mr. Christian Grey, although his projects tended to be of age. And it was all due to Ana and her sticking that pointy nose of hers in business that never should have involved her. His first three subs weren't eighteen. Just some homeless girls ensnared in the hopes of a steady three meals and clean clothes. They made me a lot of money. Christian thought he was taking photos of them to keep blackmail from happening. Gave me copies for safekeeping- little did he know their true worth. And when he got tired of each of those girls, I found work for them overseas. And when his taste ran toward older subs, he still provided me with an income, using the niche fetish he so fervently embraced.

Until Ana fucked it up. The Bastinado was just the beginning of my revenge against her. Now, she's cheated me out of that, too. If she's smart, she'll be a dead body along side a country road. But she's not that smart. She's stupid and stubborn and pussywhipped Christian.

If she's smart, she'll never show her face again. But one can't hope for miracles from a pile of shit.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_Well, here's Elena's POV. Figured the consummate villain needed a chapter so we could hate her a whole lot more. Plus, there is a future chapter that totally ties into this one that involves a measure of comeuppance._

_I have a tendency to sketch my characters out. Playing with the idea of changing this story's "Book Cover" to reflect who's POV the latest chapter covers. Feel free to let me know what you think about the idea in the reviews._

_Again, thank you much for reading and letting me know what you think! It's very much appreciated._

_-MRS_


	19. Chapter 18

_**ANA**_

* * *

Fergus passed the joint to me. After two puffs, I passed it back and then began coughing.

"I'm telling you, sitting in stinky-fart-water with a bunch of hairy gay men sounds like as close to heaven one can get on earth." Fergie inhaled half the joint in a single hit. As he exhaled, he said, "Iceland has a yearly festival. I'm so going and find myself a cuddle buddy."

"Not sure what my dream vacation would be. Maybe a tour of England, using Jane Austin books as a guide." Fort Bragg was off. Didn't feel right going somewhere _he knew_ I wanted to be. Seemed like tempting fate. Had enough of that.

"I want to go to England just to piss on Hadrian's wall. Fucking Roman fleas. Pestilence upon humanity." Fergie's penchant for history made for interesting discussions, more so during weapons training. Today's lesson: .357 Magnum revolver. "You did well with the long gun. Sidearm is a bit trickier, shorter barrel means it's less accurate the further away one is from the target. No scopes." He removed bullets from the gun, leaving only three, and then handed it to me. "I'll make you a deal. You put a round in within two rings of the bullseye, and you can go mudboggin' in the mule." He walked to the target and put up the bullseye before making his way back to my side.

Mudboggin' is a hundred times more fun than Christian would ever allow. Swerving and fishtailing around turns on a muddy road located on a hillside. Basically a big mud hole for the feral pig population, it was fed by a tiny spring that kept the earth saturated but not quite a puddle. Fergie had taken me out in the little four-wheel drive golf cart and we had a blast acting like damn fools. I loved it. Getting a crack at being behind the wheel just sweetened the deal. "Sounds good."

"Only rule that I have for any handgun. No holding it sideways like a dipshit gangbanger. I will slap you upside the head for desecrating the gun in such a fashion."

I smiled and brushed my hair out of my face. The wind blew today, which would throw off my shot a bit. "I don't think that's going to be an issue."

I focused on the gun in my hand. It was heavy, and I knew the power it possessed. I aimed at the target, held in place with a wooden frame in front of a ten-foot tall, twelve foot wide berm of packed soil to keep shots contained.

The Viking smiled his little smile and said, "Remember, invoke Freya as you aim. Her motto is, 'If you can't lay 'em, slay 'em.' It's a good outlook to have in life, _Shieldmaiden_."

_If you can't lay 'em, slay 'em._ I liked it. "Who do you like to invoke?"

"Freya's brother. He's the god of virility, as demonstrated by the huge cock he's represented as having. Plus it sounds incredibly dirty when I say, '_I'm going to Freyr your derriere._' Don't you think? I'm hoping that my Icelandic cuddle buddy will appreciate that sentiment."

"Fergus, you are officially my favorite male. Just letting you know." And so I thought about Christian's face being the target's bullseye and fired my three rounds. One, for treating me like a mindless object. How dare I have an opinion of my own! Two, for the stalking and not leaving me alone when I asked him to do so. Had he not followed me to Georgia, would I have married him? Three, for every bruise he graced me with. For every blow I took and did not request. For every time I said _no_ and he heard a _yes_.

As I lowered the revolver, The Viking made his way to the target and pulled it down. "Not bad. Can I take a wild guess at who you pictured as a dead man?"

"You don't need to guess. Think it's pretty obvious." I admired my handiwork. All three shots were within the boundary set by Fergus. One shot even landed on the border of the bullseye and the ring surrounding it.

Funny tone aside, Fergus asked me with utter sincerity, "If you don't mind me asking, what did he do to earn your hatred? You don't seem the unreasonable sort. I imagine it'd take quite a lot for you to actually want to picture their face as a bullseye."

I heaved a heavy sigh. I suspected I'd have to have this conversation at least once in my life. "Ever watch Game of Thrones?"

At The Viking's nod, I continued. " I married King Joffery. My husband doesn't know when to stop. Doesn't know how to give space or accept that someone may have a differing opinion about anything. Taylor... Taylor rescued me. Christian and I had an arguement. I wanted to leave him. He didn't want me to go. He wouldn't let me go. He punched me and knocked me out. I woke up in restraints. He beat my feet, left me tied up to contemplate my behavior and our marriage. I was ready to say anything to get him to untie me. I should have left him long ago... but I hoped he'd change. Then I realized I couldn't change him, but there's no way Christian would see it that way. He thought he needed me. He doesn't. What he needs is a good therapist." And to kick Elena out of his life. I'm sure that'd work wonders for him.

"I hope I never meet him. I'd probably maim him. Happily and with a merry song."

I shook my head. "He's not worth going to prison."

"Prison only happens if one gets caught. I'm just saying that if you ever want to Blood Eagle someone, I know a person who you probably wouldn't mind see fail at entering Valhalla."

Handing the gun back to Fergus, I asked, "What's Blood Eagle?"

After a low whistle, he said, "It's the worst punishment a Norse warrior could experience. He has to sit on his knees while his executioner- generally the person who was greviously wronged by the accused- first uses a knife to open the skin and muscle of the kneeling man's back. Then comes the axe, to cut away the ribs next to the spine. Once they're cut, they splay open. Then the executioner takes the lungs out and lay them on the executed's shoulders, looking like the wings of an eagle at rest. The worst part? The kneeling man cannot cry out. Only if he can endure in silence will he enter Valhalla. There's a serious shortage of balls big enough to accomplish that."

With a grimace, I retorted, "I'm not adept with an axe. Sounds too gruesome to me."

"Just saying." And with that, Fergus pulled out his silver cigarette holder and removed another joint. Snapping the case shut, he put it back in his pocket and fished out a lighter. "So, ready to go mudboggin?"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

The next chapter I contemplated making into a short story because I love it as a stand-alone idea. But since I'm playing with POVs, this one might as well join the others. I will not do another chapter from that person's POV.

If you'd like to know what my cast of characters looks like in my head (without actually opening my head) you can check out Ana, Christian and Fergus at (yay, shortlink to my blog!)

wp * me / p3Jr6y-9k [replace the * with . and eliminate the spaces]


	20. Chapter 19

**_CHRISTIAN_**

* * *

My father in law is not a patient man under normal circumstances. He appeared again today, asking about Ana. I had no answer, but felt that he was secretly laughing at my disquiet. Nor am I particularly patient, but I felt stymied in trying to locate Ana. Where was my wife? Who had her? I stared out the window of the master bedroom, to the landscaped estate beyond the walls. Green trees, green lawn. Blue sky with the barest hint of lacy clouds. Then like a caged panther, I began to pace as frustration rolled over me once again. Went from room to room, searching for some sort of hint as to who could have taken my wife and incur my wrath, some detail I must have missed the thousand times I've paced these floors since that fateful day.

I almost felt sorry for Taylor and the thumping he took. Almost ten days later and the bruises mostly faded from his face. He's been impeccable with communicating with the private eye and coordinating information.

When I reached the spare bedroom that housed all of my wife's books, I noted a gaping space on the top bookshelf. That's odd. She never leaves enough space to fit a book, if she can't help it. Went back to the master bedroom, searching for that book. Couldn't find it, so I broadened the search to cover the entire house for a book out of place.

Ice water seeped into my bones. Kidnappers wouldn't permit Ana to take a book. That's stupid. Where is the book? It _must_ be with my wife. She has that book, she must. Why? Why _that_ book?

Realization hit me like a leather strop to the ass.

She left me.

Ana left me. Took nothing but the clothes on her back and that fucking book. Was it a tome on how to leave husbands?

Did she hate me so much? No goodbye, no adios. Just the faint whiff of her perfume lingering in the air and the upset thumping of my heart.

Made my way to the security control room. All security footage is saved via DVR, and I played back the footage of when I saw her last. Little did my wife know I rigged my Red Room of Pain with audio and video feed, but sometimes there are moments worth watching from another perspective. Like the first time she allowed me to wield the belt on her bottom. The video of that night just so happened to be the most intoxicating porn I own. Cueing the video feed from her correction session, I studied every nuance I could.

Bound to the St Andrew's cross, her mahogany hair cascading over her delicate skin like a dark waterfall. Feet up, and ready. Until she awoke. Her eyes, those shining orbs of love and laughter were worried. And I paced and spoke to Elena on the speakerphone while Ana just sat there and took the correction I meted out for her benefit, gagged and crying.

After all the strokes were delivered to her feet, I left the room. Had I stayed, I would have witnessed the steel emerging from her soul. Via video screen, I saw the tears dry, and firm resolve set in her chin. She didn't look remorseful. She looked angry. I fast-forwarded the video feed to when I returned to the room, and the change on her face became evident.

She wore a mask. All along, like every other woman in my life. The only one who played on the level was Elena. With her, she left no doubts where one stands, no worries because she's in control of everything. No need to think when she's in control.

A sudden thought pounded its way to my brain. Elena... she's my drug. My biological mother had crack. I had Elena. As much as I despise what became of my incubator, the realization that I am as much a slave to my addiction as my junkie mother was to hers hit me in the pit of my stomach. And while the crack beat my biological mother in one way, Elena beat me in another. Maybe there was a measure of comfort to my soul when she would cane me, an unconscious reminder of when my mother still lived. Granted, her pimp deserved death for daring to harm a child as he did, but he set the pattern. Elena enforced it. Perhaps that's why I'm drawn to her as I am- to my wife's irritation. I craved Elena as a mother, mentor, and ... tormentor.

Fuck, I can almost see why Ana resented Elena. I fucking resented my crack whore mother once I got old enough to despise weakness. Yet, here I am, courting my own. My preoccupation killed Ana's want to be with me. I can see it so clearly now! And it's too late. Or is it?

Deep inside, I wanted to call Elena. But I can't. She's poison. She's why my wife left me, why I'm alone, and why I'm jonesing for both women I consider most important in my life. Can l earn Ana back? Returning my attention to the video, the feed cut out as did the sound. That's when I was rendered unconscious and Ana removed from her bonds.

I didn't know what was worse: Ana leaving me or Ana being kidnapped. Both equated with my wife gone, one by choice, the other by force. There has to be a way for me to get my wife back. I will find her. But first, I will find out what book she took, and why.

That is a promise.

And when I find my wayward wife, she and I will have a little heart-to-heart. And if I have to duct tape her to a chair so she'll listen, so be it. If she was kidnapped, I will personally strangle those responsible. And if she engineered an escape, she will be punished. Anger boiled in my blood and I'm not entirely sure at who it was directed. Ana, if she left me. Kidnappers. Elena... Elena. I don't know how to feel about her. I loved her once. And hated her. Crave her wisdom, but how can I trust anything out of her upon my realization? She's my heroin, my crack, my scotch.

I've got some thinking to do. And God help those who stand in my way, for they will learn the hard way why none should attempt to thwart me. Elena, included. A part of me entertained the notion that Elena being behind my missing wife. It was entirely possible... Elena had seedy connections, that I knew. If she knows anything about my wife, I will find out. And woe upon her if she lies- I will find out and repay her kindness with vigorous rage.

Anger. Accept and embrace it. A truer emotion never existed. Lust, love, contentment... those are built on lies. But anger is just and true.

And the only thing I can trust.


	21. Chapter 20

_**ELENA**_

* * *

Repeat clientele are the best to cultivate. A satisfied customer will come back, looking for the same quality and eye for detail. It is to those discerning masses that I cater. My work does _not_ come cheap. Therefore, it takes a special kind of patron to afford my services. I'm okay with that.

Knowing that the content is worth every dollar, pound, euro, yen, dinar, and rupee, well, it's a matter of pride.

Snow White is codeword for a fair skinned, dark haired girl. Like all markets, it's a special niche. The client who ordered his version of heady delights should be pleased. Having a network of proteges does have its advantage. Almost twenty worked beneath me in the pyramid of supply and demand. Put out an order, and they have three days to fulfill it. Each of my proteges keeps a stable of girls at his beck and call. Each groomed to be willing and able, and ready at a moment's call. Takes a special kind of person to be a protege of mine, each trained in the manner that I wanted them to procure for me. Christian Grey being a prime example of my methodology. Groomed him with a riding crop in hand, and now he echoes the same with his own subs. The only thing he did different were the background checks. His first three toys, well, it was rather easy to falsify the records because I 'provided' the reports. When he took matters into his own hands, did he get legitimate reports for his future subs. That was fine, as those girls made just as much money for me working overseas in an Eastern European brothel.

At a dingy podunk cafe, I sat and waited for the same dark haired man who purchased my briefcase last week. It was on the far west of the airport park, where the sound of planes overhead also made it hard to overhear conversations from neighboring tables. Sat in a corner booth, the briefcase of goods ordered next to me on the seat. At four-thirty as planned, the Investor made his appearance. The cafe had filled up with patrons, and the combined din of clinking tableware, jumbo jets, and droning voices made it difficult to listen to the Investor as he stood next to the table and spoke.

"A good afternoon, _Madam Spider_." His white teeth flashed as he gave his greeting.

I smiled. "Likewise. Have a seat?" With a flourish of my hand, I gestured for him to join me.

A quick nod and he sat on the other side of the briefcase. He put his payment briefcase atop the one I brought. I took his, put it on the otherside of me.

"It is what I requested?" His obsidian eyes glimmered in anticipation.

"Yes, it's just as ordered." I took satisfaction knowing he would have no complaints about the product. "I'm sure you will be pleased."

"May I see the samples?" His voice grew husky in what I thought was in anticipation.

"Of course." Common business practice. I was wary of creating a website for my product; too much risk. Going solely by word of mouth made my brand more elusive, expensive, and exclusive. Not everyone can pay ten grand for a twenty minute video or a hundred photos. By keeping the product in my hand until passing ownership, I controlled who became exposed to it. I've avoided Law Enforcement for sixteen years, and have made more money than I ever dreamed. I deemed it a worth system.

He turned the briefcase around to face him, opened it, lifted the foam insert and viewed the samples. "It is just as ordered." Quickly replacing the foam insert, he closed the briefcase and locked it.

"I am a business woman of stringent ethics."

The Investor reached out to touch my hand. "You are a business woman, true." With his other hand, he swung a handcuff around my wrist. "FBI. You are under arrest for the trafficking of child pornography, the production and distribution of child pornography."

My heart froze for a second before it's fierce pounding filled my ears. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You are under arrest." He stood up, fished out and flashed his badge and I noticed the other end of the handcuff was around his wrist. "Come with me."

I sat, shocked. But only for a moment. In a burst of speed, I flipped open the compartment hidden beneath the topaz in my ring on the uncuffed hand. Opened my mouth and emptied the contents of the compartment into it. The yellow powder burned my tongue, which then swelled up to such a size, I couldn't breath. With death, they can't prosecute me nor will I ever go behind bars.

The FBI agent tethered to me yelled, "Get an ambulance!" and the last thing I saw were patrons scrambling and screaming in terror. And when I closed my eyes, the world seemed to end.

I won.

* * *

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE 2.0**_

To the Anon reader (if you are reading) who called me a pedophile for making my disdain of C &amp; E obvious... well, you don't know me or that I've chucked more than one person to the FBI for collecting child porn, or that I've been a volunteer with Perverted Justice since 2005 [that means before they became famous/popular from NBC's _To Catch A Predator_], and helped keep pedophiles from hitting on kids in chat rooms while participating in the now-defunct Human Shield project. I've helped protect children and educate on domestic violence. What have you done to better humanity?

Your ignorance made me giggle and yes, I deleted that review because I won't tolerate personal attacks. Tell me you hate the story- I've got no issues with that. Accuse me of getting my jollies from abused children, then it's on like Donkey Kong. That sort of shit is_ not_ to be tolerated in any measure. Accusing someone of the heinous crime of pedophilia just because you don't agree with their storytelling is to play down the significance of such a betrayal of a young person by a predator. Are you _really_ that petty?

I would also like to point out that in fact, child modeling sites are often a front end for child pornography (and with how Elena's planning on something very similar in nature in regards to her new salon in the story) sales. If one reads the news (beyond celebrity news, reality TV updates, and/or sports) one can read how several "child modeling sites" through the years were just that; the parents (often mothers living vicariously through their spawn) believe that it's on the level. But a few strategic angles can turn an otherwise innocent pose into something much more sinister. This is a horrific fact. I'm not going to go into detail of just exactly are in those photos Elena sells, because just the hint of it is enough for me. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I've been consciously avoiding salaciousness, nor giving the impression that I _approve_ of said behaviors my characters exhibit. I suppose it boils down to personal interpretations, transference, and bias. Want to know where I got my inspiration? Google "FBI Operation Atlantic" and "FBI Crimes Against Children" Division. I am not a member of law enforcement, but I do have a passion to learn about society at large; that includes the seedy and disgusting underbelly that the vast majority of the population are spared. Education, it's a beautiful thing in my humble opinion.

I realize the vast majority of readers of this tale are less likely to jump to such conclusions as that particular person did, and I thank them for their rationality. But for the record, any review that contains a personal attack will be removed if Anon, ignored, or addressed, depending on how squirrelly I'm feeling.

Got a problem with me, to where you need to spew hatred and make assumptions about me? PM, please.

Thank you.


	22. Chapter 21

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_**

**_This was originally intended on being a stand alone short story. But since I'm incorporating all sorts of POVs, I figured this one would be nice to chuck into this tale I'm weaving. You'll notice it's shorter than my usual chapters. That's intentional. Will try to update with another chapter either later tonight or tomorrow._**

**_I appreciate the sentiment in the reviews which ask (or order) me to update more frequently. As mentioned before, I do so when I can. I don't mean for my lack of updates to make the seem to story drag along, but seriously, I have a life away from the computer and I'm okay with that. The story will be finished before Christmas, perhaps before Thanksgiving- really depends on what's going on in my home life. Aside from a special needs son, I've got bunch of other things on my plate that command my time, aside from writing. And in regards to writing, I've got novels I work on when I'm not working on this project. So, please, don't hound me to update often. I'm doing what I can, when I can. And that's good enough for me. Hopefully, its good enough for you. So, if you want more reads to enjoy, I can totally point you in a direction. I've got a medieval twist of FSoG here on FF called A KNIGHT IN SMOKING ARMOR... if you prefer dark and modern, there's also 25 SHADES OF FELONIES. And on my blog, there's a bunch of chapter samples. Feed your reading monster, I'm all for it. Glut and enjoy._**

**_That said, enjoy my little deviation from Ana and Christian's life and delve into the mind of a pissed off relative._**

**_-M R S_**

* * *

The house seemed eerily empty. I knew Christian would never leave his home unattended, but still. Too quiet. I called out, "Ana, you home?" and got echoing silence in return. I knew Christian had a proclivity toward home security. I waved at the surveillance cameras as I walked by.

Didn't need to ring the doorbell, that's for strangers. I knew where I was going, I knew what I wanted to do. Had to find Ana's room. Shouldn't be hard, not in a place like this. Wandering through the vacant space, I tried not staring too long at the art on the wall. Seemed pretentious. If I could waltz into the house like this, imagine what a heyday an art thief would have walking in these halls. But it wasn't art I sought.

_Revenge._

It was taken from me. Tormented, used, abused. I would free it from the purgatory and give it sweet, sweet freedom.

Upstairs, no one lurked. Where was everyone? I shouldn't be able to meander at will... not that I'm complaining. But the oddness struck me, that something must have happened. If they were on vacation, I would know about it.

The master bedroom stood barren of life. But it was not life I sought. Made my way to the closet, opened it with a grand flourish. One side was His, the other, Hers. And it was on her side that I found what I desired.

My plum dress.

My hands shook as I removed the hanger from the bowels of exile. For too long Ana kept my dress, and now I could see the abuse of it. Armpit stains, stretched seams, phew, when was it last washed? I said she could wear it once... and that once turned into always.

Anger infused my body. Damn it, it's just a dress. But the memories attached to it before being soiled by Ana irked me. I realize she too, attached sentimental value to the item of clothing whilst dating my brother in law. But still, it was my dress. Did she even intend on giving it back? Or replacing it?

I didn't care. The dress is mine to do what I want. And so with that in mind, I removed the pair of scissors in my purse and began shredding the fuck out of my dress, before hanging it back up in Ana's closet.

I'd like to see her wear that dress now. Maybe she'll get a new one, maybe she won't even care.

But somehow, I doubt it.

With as much moxie as I could muster, I walked out of Christian's house, shoulders back and head high. If he wants to get all pissy that I 'invaded' the house and destroyed a single item of rancid clothing in Ana's closet, so be it.

Ana should have given it back long ago.

I've got no regrets.

Bet the same can't be said for either of my siblings-in-law.

* * *

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE, 2.0_**

**_Yes, this is random. Kate on a rampage, seeking the return of her infamous plum dress hijacked by Ana. No mentioning of laundering, and certainly no mention of it being returned in a timely manner... so yeah. Kate had to take things into her own hands to prevent further abuse of her belongings._**


	23. Chapter 22

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_

_Dear Readers,_

_First off, thank you to those who encourage me to keep this tale going despite the relatively few naysayers. Y'all rock and I'm writing this in part for you- the support and opinions you share with me helps channel my writer mojo and craft this mofo._

_You'll notice I added to the title just a wee bit. That's because I'm rather inspired to go 'balls to the wall' with this story in glorious form._

_Probably should be noted that when I get pushed these days, I tend to push back with force, and disrespect seems to triggers my Inner Bitch Goddess. Guess you can thank her for this chapter. I had plotted four more chapters til the end of this story, however, having been renewed by a pissy reviewer, I'm going to expand the story, create MORE STRIFE and basically play mean little games with the beloved Christian "I'm an Abusive Douchenozzle in this version" Grey. Yeah. I know, I'm spiteful. That said, as promised in my reply-review to _Sassygirl10_, here is the first of many 'stench' inducing scenes that will rival good french cheese at room temperature - I've got my glass of Shiraz ready._

_Hope you do too!_

_-M_

* * *

**_CHRISTIAN_**

* * *

Haven't eaten in three days. Although I despise weakness, I relied on coffee spiked with whisky to get me through the days. Sat in my office at Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. and tried focusing on the merger proposed before Ana disappeared. Didn't care about it, or anything really. Just wanted to find my wife and never have I felt so helpless.

I fucking hated it.

Anger seethed in my veins, a reminder of lost control.

Roz popped her head in my office after a tentative knock. "Sir? There are three men out here demanding to see you. They refuse to make an appointment or state why they are here. They want to talk to you _now_."

"Send them in." Something to focus on other than my wife or business. Maybe they represented those who stole my wife and were ready to tender ransom demands. I would listen to them, remember their faces, and dump their remains into the Puget Sound. Who would stop me?

They didn't wait for Roz to signal them in. Ill-mannered bastards barged in behind her, forcing her aside. "Grey?" The man who spoke possessed a swarthy complexion, black hair and eyes. "Christian Grey?"

"Yes?"

"Special Agent Thomas Vanirsson, FBI. I have some questions for you."

My heart beat a thousand times a second. Fuck, had the FBI heard about Ana's disappearance? Would there be repercussions for not reporting it to authorities? Tried to play it cool, and stood up to reach out and shake his hand. "How can I be of assistance to you, Agent Vanirsson?"

He gestured toward a trio of seats on the other side of my huge desk. "May we sit?"

"Please do."

"These are Agents Kirkland and Bagdons. We were investigating a case and your name came up."

My mind whirled at the implications. "And what case would that be, gentlemen?"

Agent Badgons removed something from his briefcase. When he placed a digital recorder on my desk and then spoke, I realized this was much more serious than anticipated. He was a long-legged and husky-built man of little patience, I sensed. "What exactly is your relationship with one Elena Lincoln?"

"She and I have mutual business ventures." A wave of relief washed over me as I discovered the conversation with these agents didn't involve my wife.

"How involved are you with her in these ventures?" Agent Kirkland asked, his monotone voice grating on my nerves.

I cleared my throat. "I provide funding to her projects. One is a high-end salon, the other is a project in the works. A salon for underprivileged kids. My involvement is strictly financial." The three agents shared a look, and it put me on high alert. "What exactly has Elena done to garner the interest of the FBI?"

"Sir, are you aware that she is a ringleader of an international child pornography ring?" This time it was Agent Vanirsson who spoke.

"What the Hell are you talking about?" I couldn't wrap my head around it- Elena a kingpin? It was inconceivable.

"Ms. Lincoln was arrested earlier this afternoon. Tried poisoning herself and failed. Managed to mangle her face with the chemical she used. That's not the action of an innocent person. Are you sure you know nothing about her illicit activities?"

A hundred thoughts poured through my mind. Did they know she was my Domme when I was underage? Did they find those pictures she took of me back in the day? I didn't know shit about her producing child porn. What the fuck was she thinking? I felt that it was in my best interest to feed them a little information and hopefully they would be satisfied. I didn't want to get entangled with law enforcement. "She seduced me when I was a teenager, but that ended long ago. Because she was a friend of my mother, I helped her with her projects when she'd ask for assistance. In regards to her alleged proclivity toward child pornography, I know absolutely nothing about that."

Agent Bagdons spoke again, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Are you aware there are images of you as a teenager that were recovered off a server based in the Netherlands?"

Ice sank into my blood. "Excuse me?"

"Did or did not Elena Lincoln take photographs of her sexual abuse of you as a teenager?"

They knew. Strangers knew my secret. Ice and fire warred in my arteries. I wanted to strangle Elena for taking those photos, let alone allowing them onto a computer server. "She did."

"Are you willing to testify against her to that fact?"

I had enough. "I want my lawyer. Nothing would please me more than to help you gentlemen, however with the two business ventures involved with Ms. Lincoln, I feel I need to discuss some things with my lawyer before committing myself to a trial."

"As you will." All three FBI agents stood, and I did as well./ Vanirsson handed me a business card with his contact information after shaking my hand. "If you find its in your best interest to _protect your interests_, please call me. Last thing you want is to be charged along with her for the manufacture of child pornography."

Anger reproduced like bunnies inside my stomach. Fucker just threatened me. "True. Thank you."

They left my office while I sank back into my desk chair. What the fuck did Elena get me into? Why the hell did she bring this upon me? As if I don't have enough shit to deal with, this was the cherry on top of the Fuck My Life Up sundae. Wanted to strangle Elena with my bare hands for taking those photos of me in the first place. Damn her for it.

When I entered Elena's room at the hospital, I saw that she was handcuffed to the bed, and that her lower face was swathed in bandages. Two policemen stood on either side of her. Surprised they let me in to see her, but considering that the FBI came by for a visit, maybe they are waiting to hear something juicy for their case.

The pricks.

I couldn't help but to sit down in the chair next to her bed. "What the Hell did you do to yourself?"

One of her eyes opened and stared at me. She made no attempt at sound.

"The FBI told me they found photos of me on a computer server. You promised me those photos were to keep me from ever speaking against you. Elena... You lied to me. You helped destroy my marriage. And now I stand to lose everything I built because of you. We are through in all matters. Never contact me again, otherwise I'll have you arrested for harassment." I meant it, too. Although my heart cracked with pain because I knew I'd never talk to her again, I also knew that nothing could be gained with her in my life. "Good day, Elena."

My resolve almost broke when tears overflowed her eyes, running down her face to sully her bandages. But the bitch brought it all upon herself. From now on out, she's on her own.

Just like me.


	24. Chapter 23

_**ANA**_

* * *

"Ana, I gotta go into town. Want to join me or stay with Loki?"

Loki was a Karelian Bear Dog and Maremma mix. A quiet giant with black and white fur and a tail that curled over his back. It took a while for him to warm up to me, but once he did, Loki stayed by my side anytime I wandered into the wilderness behind Fergie's house. More often than one would assume did I see Loki pull patrol duty and nip the heels of California black bears that cross the fences and head toward the gardens and trash cans. Rather awe inspiring to witness.

"I'll stay here, maybe start dinner." Ever since I started staying with the Viking, I helped where I could. Dinner, gardening, rolling his stash of joints... any way to say _thanks!_ for keeping me safe. Taylor sporadically contacted Fergus, but I never knew the details. But something was up; I could tell. Just the way Fergie would look at me as if he had a question on his lips after speaking with Taylor.

"Fine. What do you have planned?"

"Fish and chips?" After taking stock of the fridge and freezer, I figured that'd be the easiest yet satisfying meal I could prepare. The Viking liked tackling the fancy-smanshy gourmet stuff. 'Basic fare' got assigned to me.

Fergus plopped his work bucket hat onto his head and sighed. "I need malt vinegar, then. Proper chips demand it."

"Can't use balsamic?" The Viking had a horde of several bottles, each a different brew. Some aged for ten years, others for seventy-five and several in between.

He frowned. "I could. Prefer not to, though. Need anything while I'm in town?"

I smiled a wicked little grin. Probably looked demented from the The Viking's point of view, only confirmed by my single word reply. "Tampons."

A deep sigh. "Very well. Vikings aren't afraid of blood or their receptacles. Anything else?"

I shook my head in the negative and with that, The Viking sailed off in his long ship.

Puttered around the house a bit, vacuuming. Hated it, but I forgot to take my boots off in the mudroom and tracked garden soil everywhere. Fergie didn't say anything about it. Just looked at me and smiled, before deciding to head down the hill for supplies.

After the vacuuming chore was completed, I plopped my feet into Fergus' garden clogs, which were kept by the back door, and grabbed the large basket kept hung on the wall. Walked through the landscaped back yard to the fence which divided the garden from the recreational area. The side of the garden closest to the house had the chicken coop. All the garden beds were fenced off with wire, permitting the birds to wander the walkways between plots. Along side the walkways were long boards Fergie put out. Every morning he flipped them over, one by one, allowing the chickens to feast on the bugs accumulated through the nights. In late afternoon, they get flipped once again. Birds also took care of mice better than cats, and kept the little garter snake population in check.

Picked tomatoes, ripe and juicy. Crisp sweet peppers, a handful of radishes. Two cucumbers and some scallion onions. Figured I could finagle a nice chopped salad out of the bounty to go along with the deep fried fare I had planned, balance out the heaviness.

After my excursion outside, I kicked off the clogs before heading indoors. Put the basket on the counter top and sat down for a bit. The house phone rang just as I was getting comfortable. I never answered the phone before, but The Viking did not believe in answering machines. Picked up the handset during the third ring. "McAesir residence."

"Ana?" My heart beat fast as I recognised Taylor's voice.

"Yep. Hi Taylor."

"Fergus around?"

"No, he's off shopping."

"Okay. I have some questions I need to ask... I know Fergus confirmed to you that I am an FBI Agent."

"If it helps put Elena or Christian away, go for it."

"I'm going to record this conversation, then."

"Very well." The tempo of my heart kicked up. If Christian ever found me, and found out I helped the FBI regarding him or Elena... my head would no longer rest on my shoulders. I'm pretty sure of that.

I heard a click and the phone connection sounded tinny when Taylor spoke. "Did your husband every mention business arrangements with Elena Lincoln?"

"Only salons."

"Any thing in particular about those salons?"

"No, can't say there was. Only thing I heard was her asking if he was on board with her new salon idea, and he said he was."

A weird beep sounded on the phone. "Taylor? I've got another call coming in. If you have any more questions, let me know. Can you call back later?"

"Can do." And he hung up. I suppose he knew I'd cooperate. It was the least I could do for him getting my ass out of that nightmare.

"Hello?"

"Hey! Cook enough to serve three, I'm dragging someone home. He's _hawt_."

I could feel my eyebrows touch my hairline. "Can do." Never met one of his flings before. But maybe I was wrong in assuming it was a fling. "Friend or special friend?"

"Friend. Oh, you'll love him. Promise."

"I hope you're not bringing him here for me!?"

Fergus laughed. "Oh, you vain thing. No, but we're heading to the ranch now. Be there in an hour."

So I got my ass in gear. Fergus possessed a Chef's stove- an eight burnered behemoth which more than met my needs. Got two pots of peanut oil heating, made my beer batter for the cod fillets. Steak fries were in the freezer. Didn't take me long to get in the groove of making everything golden brown and delicious.

I was off in my own little world when the sound of footsteps echoed in my ears. Fergus appeared, laden with grocery bags. Behind him, a slightly shorter man. Nut brown hair, golden eyes tinged with forest green. He too, carried groceries and a small potted sapling.

"Hail, Shieldmaiden!" Fergus greeted me.

"Hail, Mighty Viking!" I retorted.

Fergus nodded toward the man standing aside him. "This is O'Malley, the manky Scots get."

"I thought O'Malley was an Irish surname?" Couldn't resist asking.

The man in question answered, his voice surprisingly rich to my ears. "Oh, it is, but I identify wi' me mam's side of the family. Alistair O'Malley, and 'tis a pleasure to meet you."

Fergus smiled whilst sparking up his joint. "He saw your tampons in my grocery cart and thought I started batting for the other team. Been years since I've seen this man... had to bring him home."

"In all fairness, there's not a whole lot of scenarios which play out with you having tampons. Figured I'd stick to the tamest guess."

I laughed, and The Viking boast out, "Guess what that manky Scots get gave me? A fucking oak tree, in dedication to Thor!"

"Had I known the lovely lass, I would have brought proper flowers." O'Malley's tone was warm like molten caramel, and flowed over me.

Could feel the blood flood my face. "That's okay. Thank you though."

Fergus noted the way I was being looked at by his guest and started chortling. "O'Malley, stop eyehumping the wench. She can kick your ass, you know."

And with that, my face went full on flush. I'm sure it went three shades deeper when O'Malley retorted, "I'm fairly certain I would enjoy an asskicking, if given by her," before unleashing his gaze and smile upon me. 

* * *

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE_**

_I totally meant to complete and post this chapter yesterday (11/05) but shit happens, like my birthday. Spent the whole day away from the computer and raising a ruckus. My boyfriend took me out to a lovely dinner, and well, afterward writing wasn't exactly on my mind. Now sated with cake, wine, and cheese, I'm getting this chapter finished._

_Hope you like the new character! My boyfriend and the Nameless Immortal's conversation is what sparked that creation/scene. I love being inspired ;-)_

_-M R S_

PS- This chapter (and the many to come) are dedicated to SASSYGIRL10- I hope your rash clears up soon. Take care and feel better! -M


	25. Chapter 24

**_CHRISTIAN_**

* * *

Coffee and whisky no longer worked to control my seething rage at being denied my wife's company. Seemed like nothing worked. Everytime I walk through the house and pass the door to my Red Room of Pain, my heart stops in memory. She was so lovely there, tied to the St Andrew's cross, so perfect in her supposed meekness. Until somebody fucked it up and ruined my happiness.

Can't call Elena. Even if I wanted to, even if she wasn't in the FBI's custody, even if the lower half of her face hadn't melted off. I said my goodbye to her. Whatever mess she got herself into, I can't help. Lending aid would only make it appear that I'm in cahoots. Plus I wanted to fucking punch her in the throat for lying to me about those photos she took of me when I was 16. She gave her word, her worthless promise of keeping our secret. It's not keeping it a secret if she's cashing in on it.

All that managed to do was remind me I did the same to my subs. Took photos as insurance, kept them in a briefcase. Just like her. Fuck, even gave her copies for safekeeping. I fucking fed her photos, and she encouraged it. Goddamn motherfucking snatchfaced cunt.

Did the feds know her bracelet has a key to a gigantic safe full of briefcases? Did they even know about the safe? I could help them.

Or they can go fuck themselves.

Ray hasn't been over lately. I bet he knows something. The private eye I've had watch his house says Ana is not there. She's not at that scumbag Jorge's, either. Kate and Mia haven't seen her. Although I hated the idea, perhaps involving the authorities would actually yield something money cannot buy. Results would be utterly priceless.

Fuck it, I don't want TMZ or any other 'news' outlet blasting my personal woes to the masses. It's none of their fucking business. And it'll look suspicious if I go to the police now... I don't need that suspicion topped with Elena's bullshit. One problem at a time. I can handle one problem at a time.

Need to punch something, now. Right fucking now. Need to feel the crunch of bone and the sound of flesh bruising beneath my fist. Had my fists balled so hard, my manicured nails bit into my twitchy palm.

Dr Flynn was a godsend, on occasion. The valium he prescribed helped when taken with a shot of Stoli. Hated taking the meds, but truth was, they helped. All Flynn knew was that I was having problems with Ana. After a few probing questions about my sleep and a brief discussion about how lack of sleep tends to bring out the beast in the man, my doc gave me the script. It was true, it helped me sleep. And sleep was the one place I didn't burn with anger.

My dreams were disjointed and foggy. My birth mother hugging me, Grace hugging me. Ana hugging me. Being beaten by the pimp and me smashing the fucker's face in with a gigantic Black Amex card. Carrick trying to teach me to calm my anger and me ignoring his help. Elena... the woman who was like my mother and the pimp in one. Deep seething anger ate at me, forcing me awake. Two more valium and vodka helped fix that.

Settled back into my empty bed. At least I tracked down the book missing from my wife's library. Traced her credit card usage to a few stores at a mall- one was a book store. All the books bought there are still on the bookshelf. The tome purchased from a novelty store is the missing one. And research shows that book wasn't a book... but a hollowed out book. My wife was hiding something from me. Ate at my guts, this knowledge that she got around my defenses and brought a secret into our marriage. She deliberately sabotaged our marriage by keeping such knowledge from me.

It hurt to know she didn't trust me.

Anger fed my growing hatred of Ana. She left me. I have no doubts she engineered her departure. Still don't know _how_ she did it, but that she is behind it. Had to be. Who would abduct her and not demand a ransom from _me_?

At least Taylor proved worth his pay. The man has tried hard to track Ana's whereabouts in California. If he can find her, his Christmas bonus will rival any ransom that could have been demanded- as long as I got Ana back and could chastise her for not coming home.

Sleep returned until a myriad of sounds infiltrated my ears to stir me to a groggy awakening. Taylor stood in my room.

"Anything to report?" My voice sounded slurred to my ears as I struggled to sit up in bed.

A quick nod and Taylor replied, "Yes, sir."

"What? Ana been found?" My hands twisted the sheets in anticipation. That would be the best news ever.

Taylor shook his head hesitantly. "No, sir. Elena Lincoln wrote out a confession. Named you as an accomplice."

His words wiped any remaining remnants of sleep from my mind. "Damn that fucking bitch to the seventh bowel of Hell!" She will pay. That I promise. Her apology will only be written in her blood.

Taylor looked uncomfortable. "That's not all sir."

I didn't speak. Just looked at him while rage flowed anew through my veins.

"A copy of the confession was leaked online."

Ice replaced rage. Online, it could go viral and within 24 hours, half the goddamn would know I knew and socialized with a fucking pedophile business woman, that I invested in her 'businesses' and goddamn it all. "Any news outlets?"

Taylor nodded. "TMZ already has a report. 'Troubled Business Moguls Shady Friend' was the headline, I believe."

Ruined. I'm ruined, devastated, no coming back from this kind of taint. All my philanthropic work, worthless. Who would want the help of someone who helps pedophiles? I'll lose business contacts. No one will want to touch Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc with a ten foot pole.

Women. Fuck them all, they are not worth the bullshit.

"Also, while you were sleeping, your sister came looking for the missus."

A deep breath, one after another, helped to calm my anger. "And?"

"She hasn't left yet. Been waiting for you to wake up."

"Tell her to go away. I've got a cold."

"Sir that won't wo-"

"Christian! Why didn't you tell me Ana is gone?" Mia entered my room without invitation. Dark circles under her eyes haunted her face.

"Because I didn't want to be gossiped about."

She shook a finger at me. "You're a stupid man on occasion, Christian."

I looked her dead in the eye and replied, "So?"

"That's all. Stop being stupid and she'll come home. I know she will. Ana loved you, just hated your dependence on Elena."

"Elena is no longer a part of my life. What do you mean you know she'll come home? You know she left me?" Anger, seething rage, and upset warred in my voice. Mia seemed taken back by my tone.

"I don't know for a fact she left you. She never said anything of the like to me, but she's not the type of person to just bebop out of your life without a damn good reason."

I couldn't tell my little sister that my chastisement of my wife was probably the reason she's no longer here. Listened too much to Elena, let her interfere in my marriage too much. Can't reveal that. So anger just got more intense. "Well, if she comes home, she'll find me waiting for her." Waiting to punish her for making me worry. And she'll never do it again.

_I'll make sure of that._


	26. Chapter 25

_**TAYLOR**_

* * *

Being undercover sucks sometimes. Sure, there's action and adventure. Guns and women. But the constant hiding of one's true self can be disconcerting and a bit of an ethical mess.

My current position put me in a quandary; the only reason Grey hasn't been hauled in for questioning is because I told my handlers that he's more likely to spill the beans when he's comfortable at home, stewing over his fucked up world. This shit with Elena Lincoln just sent him into a spiral. When I got Ana out of here, little did I know how much he would mentally deteriorate- it was fascinating to watch. Didn't feel too bad for him, he deserves to feel some misery for the shit he subjected his wife to endure. Shit like that isn't okay and I'm still kicking myself in the ass for letting it go on as long as it did.

Which leads to a moral quandary. I hate my 'boss' with a fervor reserved for those going to a special place in hell. Had to dance to his jig long enough on this assignment that throwing him to the wolves _does_ hold some appeal. But not before I try to pry as much info as I can out of him. Needed to make sure he wasn't one of the big fish.

I'm sure Santa frowned and took away one of my Christmas gifts when I leaked Elena's confession to select media outlets. Granted, Grey wasn't a celebrity in the way that Brad Pitt, George Clooney or Matt Bomer defined the word. But Grey was a member of a very elite assemblage that would take the news of his association with Elena Lincoln to heart. Any investors in her brand of documented abuse would fade into the shadows. Needed to find some sort of black book- anything with contact information. Little did Grey know that he was wired the last time he went to Lincoln's office. The deed, deemed almost too dangers had the mark found out, still seemed more easy to engineer than Ana's removal to the safehouse. All the layers of security I installed to keep the narcissistic sociopath content had to be disabled without leaving a trace of friendly-fire interference. Nothing is gained by me blowing my cover.

His cuff links contained a micro camera with audio. As he fidgeted in his seat, the FBI watched Lincoln access her safe. When she was arrested, her bracelet with the USB key fell into our hands, and the contents of that safe processed for evidence.

My hopes were somewhat dashed when Ana confirmed that all she witnessed between her husband and Lincoln was the acknowledgement that he was on board. Did he know the full extent of her operation? Was he aware of her side business? How much did he invest?

Reports from EUROPOL confirmed finding three dozen images of a young Christian Grey on a computer server out of Amsterdam. Tied up, covered in welts and bruises. Being sexually abused. Confirmed by Elena Lincoln's confession.

She spared no detail. Unable to speak, she made motions for a writing implement and paper. Gave her two Bic pens and a legal tablet. Two hours later, she handed Agent Vanirsson a stack of handwritten pages detailing her operations. Fingered Grey as being the main investor. She did state he did not know about her proposed project and only got his cooperation by omitting very important facts... but still. He's tied into the manufacture of pornography. Photos were found featuring his kink room and his known subs, those photos were in Lincoln"s possession. It's not a positive in his favor, that's for certain.

Have to go wake him up. More often than not lately, he's been killing his liver with opiates and alcohol. His life, his business. But it made things uncomfortable. Where he used to be rigid and in control, now he was dazed and melancholy. Roz ran the day to day workings of Grey Enterprises while the boss nursed his hurt pride.

Made my way to his bedroom. The stink of stale sweat and urine hung heavy in the air. "Sir?"

The snoring got louder.

"Sir?" Reached out and shook his shoulder. A bloodshot eye eked open.

"Wha?" The single word sounded mangled. He looked like something the cat puked up.

"There's been a lead regarding the missus."

With that announcement, Grey shot up in bed and asked, "Where? With who?"

I smiled on the inside. The man was damn near too easy to manipulate. "Northern California. A woman very similar in appearance was found on camera in the city of Redding two days ago."

Hope seemed to fill him, but it was anger that topped him off. Whatever drugs he was taking to keep himself docile seemed to fade away at the mere mention of his wife's whereabouts. "Can we narrow her location more? Has she shown on any other cameras?"

"Still sifting through the footage, sir. If there's anything, you'll be the first to know." There wouldn't be any more footage of this imaginary look-alike. My inner white knight warred with my sense of law-abiding justice. The white knight won. "Any orders if there are more images?"

"Yes. Schedule a flight to the nearest airport. Hotel, car. We will track her down and bring her home."

I nodded, almost positive that he's thinking about putting the missus back in his kink factory. One could see the hamster running on its wheel in his head when that was on his mind.

"Taylor?"

A deep sigh was heaved on the inside. "Sir?"

"Find my wife and you can name your price. Anything you want. _Anything._"

I knew what I wanted, and knew that if I played this game without my handler's knowledge, the comeuppance would be damn near magical. I owed it to them. "Thank you, sir." First, have to set the trap. And then... well. Won't be going in any official report.


	27. Chapter 26

_**ANA**_

* * *

O'Malley was an interesting gent, as would be expected of a friend of Fergus. Loki acted a hyperactive puppy with him, and O'Malley wasn't shy about wrestling the huge dog all over the yard. Nor was he shy when it came to hunting the wild pigs that tear up Fergie's property. After our first boar hunt, bloodied and mud-covered, we trudged back to the house. The men had a spear balanced between them, the butt end on O'Malley, the spearhead resting on Fergie's shoulder. Strung from the spear, our game. I didn't make the kill, but I did help distract the ugly pig with Loki at my side while O'Malley made the strike. Fergus sat back and let us have all the fun.

"The next pig is mine. I'm making the call right now." Silence followed my declaration. I took it as acquiescence of my proclamation. "For reals."

O'Malley's chocolate-rich voice poured over me. "I have no doubts, lass. You stared down this piggy rather fiercely."

A question burned on my lips. "I gotta know something. How did you guys meet?" The way I pictured it, involved Leprechauns, a banshee or three, maybe a magical vat of enchanted whisky. My naive view of the Celtic menfolk got remedied fairly quickly.

Fergus stopped in his tracks, looked over his shoulder at O'Malley. "You know what this means, man? We need libations before we can tell her."

A solemn nod from O'Malley confirmed the Viking's words. "Aye. Can't be told without the libation. Sacrilege. "

"You mean you can't just say, 'we went to school together' or something?" Anything other than the mysterious words seeping from their mouths.

Fergie smiled at me. "It doesn't work like that. You're about to enter the _Twilight Zone_, destination Monty Python. Hope you're a fan of _Monty Python and the Holy Grail._"

"Um..." I've heard of the movie. That's gotta count for something?

When we reached the house, I became consumed with curiosity. The menfolk tended the pig, cleaning and cutting it down into primal parts to be divided at a later date. It all ended up in the fridge, wrapped in great swathes of butcher paper. We all took our showers, and when we reconvened in the kitchen, O'Malley and Fergus each had a pint glass of what looked to be a very dark beer in hand. Probably Guinness, knowing their tastes.

Fergus smiled wide when he saw me. "Ah, so there she is. Are you ready to hear the tale of how we set sail, to tap some ass and drink some ale?" The two men clanked the bottom of their pints on the counter and busted out in a drinking song together. Fergus had a baritone voice, while O'Malley's was a deep tenor.

_"We drank our fill at Lindisfarne,  
til we each had a 'bo-na'_  
_We found our quest and headed west,  
sailing for I-ona._  
_O'Malley took the nuns to have some fun  
and relieved them of their hab-bit;_  
_Fergus has his feast with the priest,  
though he'd rather had an ab-bot;_  
_O'Malley had his nuns one by one,  
and the priest found a new call-ling_  
_Fergus looked O'Malley in the eye and said,  
'What a night of ball-ling!_'"

Together they clinked their pint glasses of beer and cried, "Skol!" in unison before downing their beverage.

I quirked an eyebrow. "So you guys went on a Viking sex rampage? Didn't know there were nuns at Iona." Let alone in this day and age.

"Technically, no. But there were many years of mischief and mayhem we participated in." O'Malley raised a hand to shield his mouth from Fergus' view. "Plus the man smokes a lot of cannabis. His memory 'tisn't the same."

"My memory is just fine, it's yours that can't recall the color of the car one drove to the Nine Inch Nails concert back in the day. We woulda been out of there so much quicker and enjoying Denny's if your memory had been on par with mine."

"We found the blasted car." O'Malley refilled his pint.

"Yeah. Because it was the last one left in the parking lot. Process of elimination seems to be underrated these days, right O'Malley?"

"Fuck you, Fergus."

"Not even for your birthday, sweety." The smile on The Viking's face widened more than I thought possible, while O'Malley grinned.

I bust out laughing. "Okay... you have an antagonistic history... but how did you _meet?_"

"We're second cousins. My mom and his da were cousins. Grew up getting each other in trouble."

O'Malley hefted his glass. "And we haven't stopped since."

Well then. Didn't realize they were family. "Well, a regular family reunion?"

"Not quite. Missing the wenches. My sisters," Fergus replied. "Three of 'em. One reads, one reads palms, the last writes parking tickets- and was married to your Taylor."

Our conversation was pierced by Fergie's telephone ringing off the hook. The Viking answered, listened for a bit to the person on the line before replying, "No, she didn't...Oh, already? Yeah. It's rigged. Everything is go. Haven't asked her. You want to? Yeah." Fergie turned to me. "Speaking of your Taylor... he wants a word with you."

Um, okay. Took the handset and said, "Hello?"

"I have a question for you... where do you stand on revenge?"

"On whom?" Elena could feed maggots for all I care.

"Your husband wants to find you. I'm proposing something unorthodox. If you are game, Fergus is on board- he's been preparing things for just this scenario."

"What do you mean, unorthodox?" I didn't like the idea of seeing Christian again. Especially with me being hale and hearty- it'd seem like an affront that I'm well yet didn't come home to him. No matter what, he wouldn't take my departure well.

Taylor cleared his throat. "If he wants you, he can run a gauntlet. See how much personal effort he's willing to put in to achieve his goal."

"And if he finds me? You know what will happen, right?"

"Yeah, I do. And so do you."

I did know. And the thought of protecting myself from my sure-to-be-very-not-happy hubby floated in my mind like a cloud on a rainy day.

But could I do it?

I had to; otherwise I'd spend the rest of my life hiding- and having tasted freedom, there's no way I could cope with a life of secrets in hope Christian would never find me.

I knew what I had to do.


	28. Chapter 27

"What are the three things that you hated most about your husband?" Fergus asked me after dinner, while I stood at the sink rinsing the dishes. O'Malley was outside, tending the chickens.

I answered, partly because O'Malley wasn't in the room and I didn't want him to hear certain details, and partly because if shit hits the fan, it's better that Fergus knows who he's dealing with. "He tried molding me into his fantasy. Didn't really care that I didn't want to be a part of that scene, and forced me into that role anyways. So I played along, thinking that maybe it wasn't so bad. But it was, and worse... because anytime I tried to get some space, he'd just smother me more. Told him I needed time away from him to think. Flew out to see my mom in Georgia. He followed me from Washington, to stalk me at the bar where my mom and I were chilling. I got a job at a publishing house- he promptly buys it. I took my top off on a European nude beach... he gives me hickey bruises all over so I couldn't be like everybody else on that beach. Then he carried me over his shoulder, admonishing _me_ for making a scene... And when a creepo broke into our apartment, he got pissed off at me for going out with a girlfriend rather than staying at home- where the creep was. There are no three things I hate about him. His whole personality was put in a blender, and this horrid woman who raped and thrust him into an S&amp;M relationship when he was a teen... she's the one who hit the switch and smiled at the fucked up person he became." I hated Elena, the way she fucked him up. He could had been helped had she not inflicted herself in his life. But first, he'd have to realize that he truly needed help, that his behavior isn't normal. And there's no convincing him of anything he doesn't want to hear. I tried telling him. Got thumped in return.

And that's a fact.

"Wow."

"You asked a question and I unloaded on you. I'm sorry." Felt embarrassed that I revealed a lot more of my relationship than intended. Some inner demons just shouldn't be unleashed on the unsuspecting.

"It's okay. Somethings have to be let out or they fester. I know it better than most." Fergus started drying the dishes and stacking them on the counter. "Taylor feels that you'll never be at peace if your husband isn't controlled."

"There's no controlling him. He's got the resources and will to do exactly as he wants." A mixture of anger and sadness seeped into my bones. Had I recognised that personality aspect long ago, I wouldn't have been in this situation.

"Bingo."

I frowned. "Which means...?"

No grin on his face, no smirk, no jolly gleam in his eyes. "Full neutralization."

What exactly did that mean? "Does that imply what I think it does?"

With a slow nod, Fergus replied, "If you're thinking that it means putting a rabid dog out of commission, you wouldn't be far off."

Glacial water flowed through my veins. "I sure as hell don't like him... but straight out murder?" I couldn't condone killing him just because.

"What if he was hellbent on taking you back home? Or was in a mood for blood?" Fergus dropped his dish towel and put his hands on my shoulders. "You have to think worst case scenario.

The thought of Christian hunting me down to drag me home, all cave-man style scares the shit out of me. Never wanted to be tied to the St Andrews cross again, never wanted to be alone with he who hurt me time and again. "If he were balls to the walls without any doubt that he had a vendetta against me, then yes. I would protect myself by any means available."

Finally, a smile cracked the Viking's face. "Good. If he wants you, he has to run one hell of a crucible, no way we'll make it easy for him. He'll have to fight nature and a couple of wicked blokes before he'll get within a quarter mile of here."

"I don't want you or O'Malley getting hurt."

Fergus laughed. "We won't get hurt. Doubt your city-slicker of a husband knows the rules for fucking with a Shieldmaiden and her escort."

That got me cracking a smile. "I don't care, just don't do anything stupid."

"Won't have to. Idea is to let your husband try to find you in all the wrong places."

I cocked an eyebrow, which prompted Fergie to saying, "I doubt he'll enjoy berry brambles and stinging nettles. And if he goes anywhere near the pot grove, he'll be tangling with razor blades strung from fishing line, hanging in the bushes. There's also the hog wallow, and there's the ornery boar with the broken tusk who hates humans. But I can't tell you the piece de resistance."

"You can't leave me hanging, Fergus." So far what he named off did indeed sound like a shitty day in the woods. Stinging nettles suck- learned that first hand when it was suggested one could eat them. Did not realize gloves were required for handling until the vegetation ended up in the pan. Berry brambles, at least the one Fergus has invading his property have thorns over half an inch. As for the razor blades... well, glad I never stumbled upon the grove.

"Are you familiar with deer hunting?"

I shook my head in the negative. City girl, born and bred.

"One can purchase doe estrus- it's a pheromone mix that drives bucks wild. And dogs. Spilled some one me once. It doesn't wash off easily, and it really sucks having Loki hump one's leg all day long. I am _not_ his sticky bear."

"I don't really get what you are implying." What, coat him in doe estrus and let the dog use him like he used to use me?

"Water balloon filled with Aunt Gertie's Doe Estrus, aimed for his head. He can try walking through my property, but I'll guarantee that he won't be alone, and he won't make it out unscathed. There's a few ten-point bucks who would love to get acquainted with his ass."

I laughed at the absurdity of it. "You mean, the fauna would try to mount him? Oh My God, Fergus! You are evil!"

The Viking just laughed and whipped out his after-dinner joint. "The way you and Taylor described him... like he was a fucking animal. As I see it, comeuppace is just a play on that. Let the fucking animals have fun with him. Whatever is left, is yours to do with as you see fit."

Slowly I shook my head. "I don't know, Fergie... like I said, I'm not going to raise a hand unless he's undoubtedly after me." It's one thing to think it, another entirely to actually go through with anything. The thought that Christian would be so near to me was unsettling. Could feel the hair on my nape prickle in anticipation.

With a wry look in his blue eyes, the Viking declared, "From what I've heard, that shouldn't be a problem."

And he was right.

* * *

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE_**

Wow, seems like reading comprehension isn't the strong suit for a slew of Anon reviewers (who all 'reviewed' with the _same_ vitriol and within 15 minutes of each other *eyeroll* ) who seem surprised I dislike canon Christian. Considering it's spelled out way in the beginning of this, for those who took 26 Chapters to finally realize that rich douchebags aren't the cat's pajamas IMHO, well, I suppose you're a part of the greater societal problem (aside from the fact that one of the marketing plans advertised FSoG as a 'relationship how-to' thus nullifying the statement that _it's just fiction_) of rape culture.

Hey, if a guy treating you like shit is all cool and stuff because he gives/buys you things you try giving back to him (but he won't let you, because your opinion doesn't matter, and expensive gifts create an air of expectation of putting out) and oh, hey, he makes you tolerate him because your cries for space are ignored, well that's _your _business. But getting all indignant that _OMG, your writing sucks because you hate a douchebag!_ when I tell you plainly in the first, albeit long-winded author note... well, don't expect me to take you seriously. For really-reals.

On that note, I don't take shitty reviews seriously or personally. Every single time I get one of those Anon reviews telling me I suck, I laugh. I really, truly do. They are only words, and to quote GRRM, 'Words are wind.' There's not enough hate from irked diehard fans of the franchise to keep me from writing, and every snarky, shit-filled review just further steels my resolve to write a version of this tale that will be remembered, and if Christian ends up crucified like an apostate while Ana pulls the role of Longinus, so be it.

I suppose it'll be a bit of a salve for those reviewers to know at least this version won't end with a C4 buttplug like last time.

Oh no, my friends.

It's going to be a lot more... interesting... than that. What I have planned will yield a mixture of "Oh, shit!","Ugh!", and "Ha ha, mutherfucker had it coming!" Of that I am sure. And it'll only get worse for every attempt by shittastic reviews attempting to derail me from writing this- which admittedly isn't deviating too far from my original intentions.

And here's a big, fat promise from your's truly: when this story is wrapped up here, I'm going to re-write, add more chapters, and go full-on EL James by self-pubbing. There will be sex, drugs, and maybe some Reggae. But it will be glorious and put in front of a wider audience. All those who loved _Sleeping with the Enemy_ will gobble this up.

And it'll all be due to the naysayers.

So, haters of me/my tale, go ahead, tell me how you really feel.  
Just be aware I'll gobble that crap up and shit out some gold.

Go ahead, feed this troll.


	29. Chapter 28

**_TAYLOR_**

* * *

Too easy, he makes it too easy.

Got info for us to fly into the Redding Airport. The imaginary Ana was spotted near Arcata, but will have made her way to Ashland, Oregon by the time we arrive. This is almost fun, except for the realization that my career would be canned if my true intentions were found out.

Going to create a false trail that sates the needs of my higher ups, yet still allows me freedom to render justice.

Felt torn at my decision. Fact was, the boss wouldn't be such a dickwad if he understood just how much Elena fucked with him. It's pathetic that he can't understand that _Madam Spider_ taking photos of him, as she did and later sold, was the act of producing child pornography. He was not complicit, but a victim, yet he never had specialized therapy to help him cope with that. The man is fucked in the head and so full of himself that he is literally incapable of understanding the depth of his mental illness and how his abuser parlayed into that and continually feed that monster she nurtured inside him.

Walking in on him bitching at his wife while she was tied up, welted feet, and tear stains on her face... yeah. I had to calm the fuck down before I saw him again because I wanted to kill the son of a bitch- which would have effectively ended my mission and career. His words about her detrimental attitude toward their marriage burned like cinders in my blood. If he could only look in the mirror and see how he projects out on others, maybe he could take that first step toward healing.

But he won't.

He's rich, I'm not; ergo my opinion does not matter. I am paid help, carefully placed in his employment when the joint discovery that he was a victim of serious sado-sexual abuse as a teenager _and_ that he personally knew Elena Lincoln was made by the Feds. Put in place to see how deeply he was ingrained with his abuser, little did I know when assigned the task how much abuse the guy had in his life. A shitty childhood, traumatic for sure. But kids are more resilient than teens, and wounds inflicted in his teens have never been addressed. Had they, his adult participation with Elena in his life would never happened.

Ever since 'finding' Ana seemed plausible, Grey started regaining his equilibrium. Less valium, whisky and vodka in his diet, at least. A fire burned in him, and I knew it would end in blood. Right now, he sat in his home office, on the phone. Per his request, all lines in the house were constantly monitored... more than he realized, as all vOIP are routed through a proxy and stored out of state where he can't easily access them, unlike the FBI who have been keeping tabs on him.

"Taylor!" He spotted me standing by the door and hung up his handset. "I need you to go ahead and scout for Ana. I've got a few things I need to wrap up here before I follow you."

"Anything I can assist with, sir?" Suspicious, he usually had underlings finish the details so he could go an be the prow of his own ship, gliding forth in the sea of life, first there, first to do whatever and leaving others to complete tasks for him.

Grey shook his head. "No, I got it handled. Will meet up with you in Arcata, or wherever you tell me to head. Will be leaving at approximately six AM tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." That means have his bag packed before I head out on the assignment he gave me, which reminds me to pack my own as well. _Sigh._ Soon, I remind my self. This assignment will be over and I can move onto something better. But first, ends to tie.

One part of the mission already yielded gold; Elena Lincoln was arrested, and would be tried in court. If she's half as intelligent as she is manipulative, she'll plead guilty and not go to trial. Save as much figurative face as she could. Her literal face... no amount of plastic surgery could repair the damage done. At least she was out of the hospital long enough to get her picture taken for posterity and have her prints put on file. But there was nothing that could be done for her face. The flesh of her cheeks dissolved, as did most of her tongue. She's on a liquid diet for the rest of her life. The acid she used also ate away at her gums, making most of her teeth fall out. The remaining ones she did have were loose, and short of getting implants, there was no way to anchor the teeth. Only the mandible itself kept the lower part of her face from splatting on the ground. When her arrest hit the news, her mugshot had a portion of the picture blurred out lest the haunting image mentally scar the unwilling.

TMZ made no effort to blur out the images. Headlines from their site about Lincoln, her arrest and attempted suicide, her ties to many wealthy business moguls including the boss, seemed to fuel the fire in Grey. Any magazine, newspaper or online article (which was printed, so he had a hard copy) concerning him and Elena ended up on his desk. He stewed over them- to what effect, I don't know.

I will say Christian Grey has a particular look when he's marinading in hatred and planning. Those silver eyes of his darken to tarnished pewter, the angles of his face seem harder, his lips narrow enough that it looks like he'd break his teeth with how hard he's grinding his jaw. The man becomes pure malice in mammal form.

Being dismissed from the boss, I made my way to Gail and informed her of the boss' plan.

She was in the kitchen, wiping down the counters. With a quirky smile, she grabbed me by the hand and led me to her room. After she shut the door behind her, Gail wrapped her arms around me and hugged. I bent down and inhaled the perfume of her hair. It seemed a calming elixir.

"Got a new assignment from the boss. Going to be away a while. If you need me, call me on my unlisted phone. Do not use any of Grey's equipment." I held her tight, not knowing if I'd see her again when this bullshit is over and done with.

"Be careful, whatever you do." I loved the way she fell into my arms, as if the curve of her body complemented mine and vise versa. I loved the serene sensation that seemed to follow her, and how that calming influence almost made this mission bearable. She alone is the one perk that made it worthwhile on a personal level.

"I will. He's got something planned. If he says or does something... odd, let me know. He's after the missus."

Gail shivered in my arms. "Oh, I hope she's alright!" I knew her feelings on the topic regarding Mister and Missus Grey. Some of the 'sessions' they had in the Red Room had triggered poor Gail by sound alone. Her first marriage was a learning experience in what not to accept as permissible behavior. I knew that's one of the reasons she loved me- nothing but gentleness and reassurance came from my lips to her ears. I'm paid to take a bullet, but for her I'd take one for free.

"She is fine, and soon to be better than fine."

Gail's trusting eyes shone up at me, and I felt the fluttering of desire. As much as I wanted to worship her, I couldn't. Not now, when there's too much going on and too much at stake. Perhaps when this is done and over, I'll tell her the truth. And maybe she won't hate me for lying to her about my motives for being in Grey's employ. I know she won't miss him much, if at all, but as her main source of employment, Grey being neutralized risks her career- not that cleaning sex toys for a sexual sadist is all that great. But at least there's other gigs. Having worked for Grey, anything should be a breeze, really.

I kissed her. It was as sweet as our first kiss and passionate enough to leave me breathless and wanting more of her with every beat of my heart. Hated the idea of leaving her alone with Grey, but orders are orders.

Damn, I wish this mission was over and Grey nothing more than a faded dream rent asunder by the dawn.

But dreams usually don't come true.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

A friendly reminder before the figurative shit hits the fan in this tale: this is NOT a typical HEA- which is to say that at least one main character will get a happy ending, but it will not encompass both main leads. As in, if you think this story will end with puppies, kittens, a sparkly rainbow, complete with a pot of Sacajawea dollars next to an always-winning slot machine, peace and harmony for all involved... you're _way_ into the wrong tale, my friend. So if you can't handle unhappiness as a part of this story's weft, feel free to bail out now. It's all good and I thank you for sticking it out as long as you did. Wishing you happy reads elsewhere, rife with puppies, rainbows, and happy-humping harmony.

This paragraph is reserved for a select few... you know who you are. No one (to my knowledge _or_ with my consent) is holding a gun to your head and forcing you, dear reader, to suffer through my story which is clearly marked "Drama" and "Angst" rather than "Romantic" or "Comedy" - the info is there if one cares to read and apply meaning to the operative words in the description. Words have meanings. _Angst_ should not be confused with _Happy. _Any other confusion may be solved with a dictionary.

Your mileage may vary.

**_Here's what I've learned whilst writing this story thus far:_** There are many who demand silence from those who do not pander to their tastes. Attempted tear-downs to shame me into capitulation of their wishes. Gee, sounds a lot like Christian Grey making a puppet of those readers! (_No Ana, you cannot drive the car you want/bought/owned... you _HAVE_ to drive (or be driven) in the car _I_ picked out for you! Haven't you learned that yet?)_ Funny thing is, their nattering comes off more like Charlie Brown's Teacher talking, all "wonk, wonk wonk" rather than the strongly-worded ego destruction as attempted. And so I giggle.

You rabid Anon reviewers are seriously HILARIOUS with the tiffs you throw. Egad! your hero's dark side shines brighter than the faux silvery shellac in canon as relayed by Ana, the quintessential unreliable narrator? I can't help but think it's a story of a story about a vampire story (which was really Mormon propaganda) of a girl with no ambition of chasing her own future, just joins herself at the hip forever and always to her unrealistic object of affection. Art is a society's mirror, and when a huge demographic is unable (or unwilling; there are women who want to marry murderers on death row- officially there is no accounting for 'taste') to recognize red flags in a relationship- all of which are glorified in Fifty Shades of Grey- it says a lot about how we have failed to teach our young people acceptable boundaries and behaviors, and instead encourage shallowness, strong arm tactics _(99 No's and finally 1 Yes! We're in business, boys!)_ and manipulation.

Your indignation is wasted in my direction. It's like a litter of chihuahua puppies, all pissed off and growling from inside of a huge box that positively dwarfs their efforts- it accomplishes nothing but give me gigglefits and share ya'lls rage with friends and family who want to know why I'm chortling by light of my laptop. By the way, we're taking bets in regards to those irked reviews now. It's a blast getting our Vegas on (we tried drinking games at first, but decided we didn't want to kill our livers). So my heartfelt thanks to those who rage because I didn't sugarcoat the shit in my story- you guys are fun!

And just remember- this site is a smorgasbord of stories. If the flavor of mine doesn't appeal to you, there is still plenty to choose from, and my feelings won't get all butthurt. Have fun, live life, entertain a different perspective every now and again.  
Things like that are the spice of life!


	30. Chapter 29

**_ELENA_**

* * *

Morphine pumps are lovely contraptions, but the meds make it hard to focus when one has enemies all around. Bound to my hospital bed, there wasn't much I could do while my body mended in preparation for my punishment.

I was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Damn them for nosy bastards who are better served breaking up meth houses than wasting time on me. Drugs are a huge thing in America- have they forgotten Nancy Reagan's plea to just say no? Bastards.

Well, if I'm going down, I'm taking at least one person with me. Christian, you will not escape unscathed, that's a promise. Can't talk anymore, just make frustrated glutteral groans swamped with saliva rather my normal dulcet tones. Can only rely on writing for communication now. Frustrating.

Damn the poison! It should have killed me, not kept me alive to endure the criminal justice system. I failed in that respect.

The cops assigned to the night shift must have been in trouble with their chief, else they wouldn't have to guard someone physically tethered to a heavy hospital bed. Where could I go? As it is, I have to use a bedpan, which is all manner of irritating and embarrassing. Ring for help, wait, and then endure someone tending me as I can't even wipe myself while handcuffed.

I hated it.

The doughnut munchers ran on a coffee break. I suppose one should have stayed, or had backup make a delivery, but being in the middle of the night, and restrained, and assumed drugged on heavy painkillers, what mischief could I get into?

The dark hours of the night bothered me most. It's never completely dark in a hospital, nor can one get rested when nurses check on one every hour or two. Better off staying awake than medicating myself into slumber. Besides, how can one sleep with half a face oozing spittle and gore? My wounds had started necrotizing, rotting and dying. The debridement I had yesterday still ached, but pain medication was not the answer.

The sound of steps filled my ears. Cops must have returned.

But it wasn't the police.

_Him._

"Don't make a sound. I'm getting you out of here." Christian's voice was low and reverent, it warmed my blood and I felt elated that finally! he's showing some sense. I can escape, make my way to a country that doesn't have an extradition policy with the United States. I'll be free!

Christian produced a key for the handcuffs, and my arms finally relaxed from being in that damn position for so long. Freedom! It took a long moment after I sat up for the dizziness to abate. But when it did, Christian dressed me in medical scrubs and put a surgeon's mask on my face to help disguise the bandages.

He led me out of the hospital through a series of service corridors. I could see surveillance cameras, but hopefully my disguise would buy us time. We ended up outside, and I hurriedly got into his Bugatti, and off we were to who knows where.

We drove far into the countryside, where houses were few and barns were many. I started to become wary of our destination and Christian's silence bothered me greatly. Although I couldn't say it, I tried gesturing toward the car windows in hopes he would understand that I wanted to know where we are going.

"You know, Elena, I had a revelation not too long ago about you."

The hair at my nape stood on end. His voice was low and deliberate; near a growl.

Christian continued speaking. "In some ways, you were like a mother. And in some ways, you are like my mother's piece of shit pimp. You didn't use cigarettes on me, but you used other things that left invisible bruises, didn't you? Ana hated you from the start, saw things I couldn't see about you. And I chose you over her. That's not fair to my wife, is it?" His voice became forceful, angry. "You threw me under the bus, Elena. You threw me under the bus when I tried to help you, and instead you drag my name though shit so you can fuck with more kids? Did you really think I would let that slide?"

I shook my head. I didn't think he'd ever speak to me again, and I wanted to punish him for abandoning me to my fate. Never did I imagine we would be in this particular situation.

"That's right. You taught me well. Attack them at their weakest. Show no mercy and never dry their tears."

My heart beat faster with every syllable emerging from his mouth.

"I'm just letting you know that I'm going to make sure you don't have to go through a trial. I don't want our previous relationship become national news. So I'm giving you an option. You can take door number one to freedom or take door number two."

I shook my head, knowing that the choices were going to be something I would not appreciate.

"Shy? Door one is escape via horse, the other is escape via water, if that helps you make up your mind."

Although I didn't want to answer, I knew I had to do so; Christian would not allow otherwise. It was what made him such a great protege. I held up two fingers.

"Door number two? Excellent choice, Elena."

Further into the night we drove, to a destination only Christian knew. By water... perhaps he'll use one of his watercraft to get me out of the states? Seemed too generous for the mood he was in at the moment and I readied myself to be thrown overboard once out to sea. What else could he have planned in regards to me?

Finally we neared a barn in the middle of nowhere. There was no house nearby, nothing but forest and pasture.

"Like it?" he said, his voice back to his normal timbre. "This is the outskirts of my stud farm for my race horses. But since you don't want door number one, we'll leave the equine alone."

Instead, he led me by silvered moonlight to a small shack near a stinking pond. I balked at entering such a nasty space but Christian wouldn't allow it. "You will enter the shack or I will carry you forcefully. You will not enjoy it."

So I walked into the tiny, dark building. Lit by a battery-operated lantern, all I could see what a barrel on its side, a coiled bit of firehose attached to a pump, and a generator for the pump.

Christian sat on the barrel while I stood in front of him. In a masterful voice, he said, "You will answer me or you will suffer more before I give you your freedom."

I nodded, hoping that if I complied he would restrain himself.

"Was I the only kid you molested?"

Cringing at the word molested, I shook my head.

"How many besides me?"

Showing him all ten fingers splayed, I balled my fists and splayed my fingers out, counting thirty-five, give or minus a few.

Disgust shone from his face. "You took advantage of kids who have already suffered. The world doesn't need your evil, Elena."

Sure my heart would burst through my chest, I shook my head. I helped people, dammit. I helped people look good. And where would Christian Grey be had I not given him the strength and determination to go to extreme lengths to achieve goals? He would be nothing without me! How could he forget it?

"Ana tried telling me. I didn't listen. My parents tried telling me, and I turned my back on them. All I had was you, until you decided to fuck me over. Don't tell me you expected to remain unscathed for that fucking confession you wrote?"

Horrified sounds emerged from my throat as I tried pleading. Did not matter. He punched me in the eye, and I fell to the hard-packed dirt ground. He lifted me up, and began removing my bottoms. When I struggled, he held me by the throat, ensuring my complacency. Bending me over the barrel, I could see from my peripheral vision that he reached for the fire hose's nozzle. He jammed it inside me, the cold metal giving me a bone-deep chill.

"You said you wanted freedom by water; have it." With that uttered, he turned the on the water. A trickle fell from between my legs, until he turned on the generator. Sharp, terrible pain ripped me asunder inside. When I opened my mouth, all I could see was my vicera blasting forth and hitting the wall in front of me.

That was, until gentle, blessed death claimed me for her own. 

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Yeah, Elena got a shit-tastic death. This was inspired by a story my ex mother in law told me of when she was in a Mexican prison during the early 80's... her cell mate met the same fate as Elena, while she was made to watch, standing in a puddle and getting electecuted by cattle prod.

It's safe to say Christian has gone off the deep end, but hey, at least he's saving tax payers money, right? Now that Elena doesn't have to keep a court date and all.

From here on out, it's going to be a wild ride!

-M R S


	31. Chapter 30

_**CHRISTIAN**_

* * *

Anger, sweet and perfect anger, burned me from the souls of my feet to the top of my head. "Was I the only kid you molested?"

Elena shook her head. I could barely keep looking at her grotesquely bandaged face. Gave me more reasons to hate her, for spoiling her beauty. I ached to wrap my hands around her neck, but I really didn't want to touch anywhere near her lower face. The bandages were red from blood and green from god knows what.

"How many besides me?" I could forgive her if I was the only one she fucked with. It's stupid and I hate thinking it, but if she got her kink out on me alone, then I can cope. But if she shared herself with anyone else... fuck her. Fuck her to death. Fuck her to death with a shard of glass. In the ear.

The fucking bitch showed ten fingers three times, then five fingers.

The anger I felt earlier seemed dwarfed by the magnitude of the number. Bitch spread herself thin. In a blinding moment, the moment of clarity came. I was one of many. I was a part of her pornography, and what was worse, I copied her by producing images of my own- albeit subs that were of age. The first three she procured for me when she started training me to be a Dom, they weren't my type, not women I would have chosen. They seemed agreeable enough, too agreeable at times. After them, I took control of everything in my life. Or so I thought.

But I could never control Elena. She knew how to poke and prod me into complacency and I applied the knowledge garnered first hand to all of my subs, with special attention on Ana, the one sub who never signed the contract and upheld the Non Disclosure Agreement better than I anticipated. How I wanted to punish her for breaking it! But I never got the chance.

Elena goaded me to interrupt Ana's visit with her mother, and so I did.

I was Elena's fucking Fuck Puppet.

Agony and rage warred in my blood. I hated Elena, she cost me everything. Everything! My family, my wife, my business, my sanity. The only way to cure her toxicity is to purge her from civilization. Beasts like her do not deserve to live.

I put everything on the line when I busted her out of the hospital. My face was on security camera, I knew that without a doubt. They'll be looking for me. And I'll be looking for Ana. Maybe I can apologize for being a bastard out of Hell. Maybe she'll accept it.

Even if she doesn't, she's still coming home.

Reminded of my emptiness, I said to the living nightmare before me, "You took advantage of kids who have already suffered. The world doesn't need your evil, Elena." I knew what needed to be done.

I am _Frankenstein's_ Monster, killing my maker. She cost me everything! Time and again! The confession is just the cherry on top. "Ana tried telling me. I didn't listen. My parents tried telling me, and I turned my back on them. All I had was you, until you decided to fuck me over. Don't tell me you expected to remain unscathed for that fucking confession you wrote?" Used me, and threw me under the goddamned bus.

Elena made gurgling sounds of fright. They just pissed me off, so I blacked her eye. She fell, and I picked her up and prepped her for the punishment she chose. Bitch is lucky she didn't choose the horse. She'd be Catherine the Great and my stud horse would thrust his huge phallus inside her, tearing and ripping and maybe she'd understand the hurt I'm feeling, how tore up I feel inside. How it's all her fault.

But she chose water. Stinking, stagnant, mosquito-larvae infested water. She deserved no better. Bent her over the barrel and held her there while the fire hose nozzle in her snatch- the same snatch that eagerly entertained a legion of people like me. Turned on the pump.

Not enough force. Didn't want to give her a douche. So I kicked on the generator. It worked.

Bits of her insides hit the wall, painting it red. Didn't matter. I'd move the body and torch the shack. No bones to find, they'll consider it arson and not murder.

Turned off the water, and looked down at Elena, or the hollow shell she became.

I felt nothing.

No anger.

No love.

No hate.

I felt cleansed.

Didn't really want to touch her, but I knew I had to, if only to earn a bit more time to find Ana.

Cinder blocks awaited me, as well as nylon rope. The little pond wouldn't house Elena. But luckily, the cliffs a quarter mile away provided the best dumping point. Bitch would be shark bait. The blocks and rope were hidden next to a stone fence by the cliff side, put there earlier. I'll only use half, that way if Ana pulls some stupid shit, she too will be taken care of in a similar manner.

I put Elena on a canvas tarp I bought for this particular reason. It'd make moving her carcass easier. I dragged her to the stone fence and attached each of her limbs to the cinder blocks with the rope. Then I pushed the body over the cliff. A splash sounded and I began jogging back to the shack, the bloodstained tarp wadded in my arms.

A bottle of barbecue briquette starter fluid waited for me in the Bugatti. Grabbing it, I emptied the plastic container quickly, saturating the wooden walls of the shack with particular focus on the side that got Elena's organs. They got hosed with the fluid, too. Outside, I grabbed a hefty stick, squirted the last remaining drops on one end and lit it with a lighter. Flung it toward the shack and as soon as I saw flames, I drove off, watching the show in my rear-view mirror. It was achingly beautiful. Best part is that insurance would reimburse me for my loss.

Suckers.

Now, with Elena purged from my life, perhaps I can start anew with Ana.

_Ana, I am coming to find you, wife of mine. I will never let you go and never will we part. Ana, my beloved... forgive me?_

As the sun began to rise, I found myself at home, in the shower. My mind swam with delight that Ana had been spotted in California. I don't know how she's getting along with out her identification or money... but she better have a good reason. I fucking hope she was kidnapped, because leaving me is unacceptable.


	32. Chapter 31

_**TAYLOR**_

* * *

My unlisted phone rang with a strange number. "Hello?" I lay on my cheap motel bed on the outskirts of Redding. The summer heat, oppressive, despite the AC blasting away. The white noise of the air conditioner had lulled me into a dreamless sleep, disturbed by the cellphone.

"Jason?" It was Gail, her voice soft, hesitant. The way she pronounced my name always made the hair on my arms stand on end and await for more.

"You okay, hun?" Had to make sure nothing happened to her, sate my curiosity that she was safe. Calls at one fifteen in the morning generally aren't full of good news and what I don't need is bad news.

"I'm fine. You said to call if anything odd happened. The boss just got home. He left his clothes everywhere once he got in the front door and they have blood on them. Oh Jason! All over the shirt, especially. Couldn't sleep with him tromping through the house, so I picked up his clothes and then listened to your police scanner... Elena Lincoln has just been reported missing from the hospital. Do you think...?" The way she trailed off, I knew exactly what she was thinking. Either Grey went off the deep end with Elena or he and Elena teamed up on the missus.

Oh fuck. Not good. Why hasn't my handler called? Do they even know yet? Have the police informed them that the FBI's prime suspect has just pulled a Houdini? "Don't make assumptions, okay? Just lay low until he's out of the house... ever since we saved the missus, he's been, well. You know how he's been. Did you wash his clothes yet?" Damn, handler will be upset, I bet. My fault. I goaded him with the information of her downfall.

"Not yet. I...I...I don't want to think the worst but I can't help it. What if he found the missus? Oh, Jason! What if she's hurt?" _Or worse_ went unsaid. Gail wasn't fond of Elena or her airs so it didn't seem too strange when she didn't mention her.

"I'll get to the bottom of this, I promise. Hide those clothes, might need them for evidence. If he mentions or acts worried about them, take a picture of each item, and try to snip off a bit of fabric from an inconspicuous space. Put them in a baggie and save them for me. Do that now before he thinks of it, but keep your ears open for him moving around. Do not let him catch you. Put them in a paper sack and go somewhere else if you must. Just don't let him find you doing that."

"That's like forensic stuff, isn't it?" Interest tinged Gail's voice.

I heaved a sigh. "Yeah. We can have it tested and see if it matches the missus or Elena's DNA. I want you to stay safe- go stay with your sister for the weekend. Things might get ugly and I don't want you in the middle of it. Please, Gail. Stay safe. I love you." And I meant it with every pump of my heart. If anything happened to her, it would be my fault.

"I will, Jason. I love you, too. You stay safe, you hear me?" And she hung up while my heart beat like Thumper's foot. I missed that woman, and feared for her since my presence wasn't near to keep her from harm.

Made a call to my handler. "What's this about the Spider not being where she's supposed to be?" The anxiety radiated from my voice, fueled by the suspicion Grey had something to do with Lincoln's disappearance.

My handler is the contact I have with the FBI while undercover. Never met her face to face, she was only a voice on the phone. Like the Oracle at Delphi, she should know something- anything. While the police were the babysitters for Elena Lincoln, it was the FBI who was supposed to be in control. Gaia, my handler, did not care for the tone of my voice and responded in kind. "She's gone, hijacked by your boy. Two security cameras inside the hospital showed him leading a blond woman in scrubs and a surgical mask out of the building, while another caught them walking through the parking lot and getting into a car registered to him. Why the fuck did you not stop him? Where the fuck were you? Aren't you supposed to be his damn shadow? We're doing our best to keep this quiet, but if he can't be wrangled, he'll be blasted outright in the media and go jack-rabbiting from us. Hope he's aware that he can keep this quiet if he surrenders her quickly. If he shares any of the spider's ties, those may end up going into hiding and the lid will come off the pot to boil all over our nice little stove of justice. Don't let him mess up the soup or my shiney stove. _Capische_?"

Shit. Knew it'd be placed on me. "I couldn't stop him because he's got me running errands trying to find his wife. She's in a safehouse and will most likely testify if we get to court, but he doesn't know that." Not that Ana's testimony would amount to much from the single question she asked, and there's a decent chance she wouldn't have to testify... not with the evidence picked up at Lincoln's office. It'd be a spare nail for the coffin.

"Well, you better get a handle on that boy before he fucks this whole investigation to the point of no return. Your ass is on the line if this fails." There it was, laid out for me to follow.

"Yes, Ma'am. Expected to meet up with him this morning at six." And from there, the game begins.

"Good. There's a manhunt out for the Spider- we already have a warrant for Grey's house, apartment, and office. Him taking her from custody just placed him at the top of the shit list."

"I'm damn certain they aren't planning anything together... he's too angry at her. He's been eyeballing every article that mentions the two of them together and getting pissed that he's being mentioned in a negative light. We have to find her- or she's as good as dead."

Gaia let out a long whistle. "You think he'd do such a thing, not send her overseas so she can't be extradited?"

I sighed. "Yeah. He's got a big enough grudge against her that he'll just see red. Doesn't take much to provoke him." Since I provoked him, it_ is_ my fault. And now that he's officially on the warpath, I have to get a hold of Fergus, make sure everything is in order. Can take backroads to his place, go in the figurative back door. Loki stays near the house, Odin and Freyr stay in the woods, keeping the cougars and bears at bay. Gotta make sure everything is ready so this chapter can be closed and people can get on with their lives.

If Grey is arrested for Elena's kidnapping, he'll bribe out and continue on his merry way. That's his modus operandi- grease the palm so he can slide which way he wants. Money is his super power. His assets need to be frozen- and with his name on the deed with Lincoln, maybe that's enough to do it. I'm damn sure that he had no participation, willing or known, in her spider web. She's a master manipulator and used him as her sock puppet. In a way, I felt bad for the guy. But all it took was the reminder of him hurting his wife time and again, and him supposedly in therapy which seemed an utter fail in regards to his mental health, to recall why exactly I don't like the guy. His resentment for females bordered on very unhealthy.

"Well, shit. At least we got her black book."

Elation made it's way through my arteries. "Seriously?"

I could picture Gaia smiling as she spoke. "Yes. Hundreds of contacts. Ran them through the INTERPOL database. A good two dozen already have priors ranging from aiding and abetting to human trafficking. We got them all, including the spiderlings. Your boy's name was crossed out. We're coordinating with several agencies to do a single-day takedown."

And this is why I'm proud to be a member of the FBI.

"How many countries involved?"

"Twenty-six."

That number made my body go cold. Twenty-six countries, no telling how many offenders per country. The bust would surely make news, maybe even get more attention than Kim Kardashian's ass did. Here's hoping, anyhow. "Good Lord."

"Get your boy under control. That is a direct order." Gaia's tone meant I couldn't argue, not that I wanted to do so. She had a point- he's running amok and fucking shit up.

"Yes ma'am." I heaved a deep sigh, knowing that once this mission is over with, my relationship with Gail most likely would be as well. Dammit. I needed to tell her the truth, come clean, and hope she'll forgive me. I bet she won't, though. Lying from the beginning isn't an auspicious way to keep a relationship, but how could I tell her the truth without putting her at risk? That knowledge sat heavy in my heart, weighing me down more than knowing what's in my future. With a click, Gaia dismissed me with my orders.

Must talk to Fergus, check on Ana. Must get the ending arranged. Would that I could be in any other position, I would happily take it. Granted, it's my choice and my actions that forge my secret mission. _Who am I to judge him?_ I wondered. _But who am I to allow him to continue on his spiral?_

He needs to be stopped, and that cannot be argued. Have to find Elena Lincoln and hold her accountable and the same to my supposed boss. Yes, I'm a hypocrite, and I'll have to live with it, I know. _Sigh. _

Approaching zero hour and adrenaline surged through me.

Dialed Fergus's number. It was a sleepy Ana who answered. "'Ello?"

"Ana? Get The Viking."

Could hear her stifle a yawn. "Can't."

Impatience grew in my voice. "Why not?"

"He's in Redding, getting his pillage on at a gay bar."

"Bars close at two. Did he say where he was staying?" Had to find him, especially with him in the same damn town as me.

"Yeah. Oxford Suites, room 334."

"Okay, thanks. Ana, pay attention. Grey is getting close and wants to bring you home. Things are in play right now. He was taped removing Elena Lincoln from the hospital and no trace of her so far. He's is at home right now and we're going to put an end to all this shit, okay?"

"Already?" She sounded alert, which certainly helped my end of things. "If he'll leave me be, I just want a divorce from him, no alimony or anything. I just want to be left alone."

"You know he won't accept anything less than you going home, right?"

With a heartfelt sigh, she replied, "I know. Guess it's time to find out who the Gods favor."

Couldn't help but chuckle. "You sound like Fergus." Have heard The Viking use the same phrase many times before.

"That's because he's taught me a lot about kicking ass. He calls me his hag shieldmaiden, and that's an honorific."

"Well, grab your spear, Shieldmaiden. Shit's going to hit the fan."

"Understood." And from the serious tone she used, I could tell she truly did.

I hung up, somewhat apprehensive. At least I could get a hold of the the modern viking allergic to technology. Dug out the yellowpages from the nightstand drawer and looked up the number for Oxford Suites. Dialed, punched in the room number Ana gave me. A very grumpy Fergus answered.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"No luck pillaging asses?" Could help but tease him.

"On the contrary." Hear a shifting sound and The Viking's voice muffled, "I said I was answering the phone, not for you to stop sucking my cock."

Moving on.

"Target is on the move. Is the backdoor ready?"

"There's a couple ways I can answer that, but I'll settle for the way you intend. Yes, take the dirt road and stop by the three pines. You'll find a little present for you in a canvas bag hanging from one of the branches of the left-most tree. Make sure to take him out at night- makes things more interesting. Might want to suggest to him to bring a flashlight, gonna be a black moon."

"Gee, you sound like you almost care." Would have figured Fergus to encourage bumbling around in the dark, not suggest illumination.

"What befalls him is going to suck, no doubt. Don't envy him in the least. Ana's adamant that he not get harmed unless he won't leave her alone. She will not go with him under any circumstances. She's very clear about that."

"Doubt he can be reasoned with. I'm in Redding right now, target will be flying in at six. Goose chase until tonight. Go back to your pillaging."

"Tonight it is, then." And with that, I knew without a doubt things were going to get interesting. 

* * *

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_

_I'm going to apologize right how for the length of this missive. Yeah. I know, bad Mandi. _

Dear Readers,

Allow me to show you the reasons why I keep working this dark tale of old love lost and new love found.

**As mentioned several times before, I'm okay with people not liking my story, that is totally their right, as I know this story isn't for everyone. Thought I made that clear way back at the beginning of this trek.** It's the personal attacks that feed my Inner Bitch Goddess into weaving a horror show, making it ever so slightly more twisted (boils down to the amount of detail I put into the scene, such as Christian's last contribution) with each round Rabid Fans keep attempting to chuck my way. I wanted to share the two newest examples of why this franchise is doomed by its own ardent followers_ and_ why I'm writing this. I have not approved the original reviews, but wanted to share them and my response to such endearing sentiments.

_ANON REVIEW:_

_Your just as fucked up as your mother to stupid bitch. How dare you mutilate these characters and have the audacity to say shit about a great writer like EL James. You are nothing but a small fish in a pond who is suffering from penis envy. You are nothing but a psychotic dike who hates the world and doesn't see a happy ending for anybody or anything. You are fucking Adolf Hiltler reincarnated with a fucking pussy. Your story is fucking disgusting, how dare you come to this site and spew your revolting shit. There is no justification for what you have done. What is it hated what was done to your mother in fucking prison and thought you would vent it out with characters the fans from this site have grown to love. What you had Christian do to Elan is something a fucking serial killer does. And Christian is not a fucking serial killer, only in your warped up strange, need fucking shock treatmnet fucked up mind is he like that. YOU ARE FUCKING INSANE. YOU FUCKING LUNIC. YOU ARE ONE FLEW OVER THE COOKOOS NEST FUCKED UP IN THE HEAD._

_Do the world a favour and get fucking medicated, you are a danger to society._

_**[Mandi Rei]**_  
_**A- It wasn't my mother. Read it again- it was my ex mother **_**in law**_**. Little details like that matter if you want to be taken seriously. If you glossed over the**_** ex in law**_** part, no telling what you glossed over in FSoG that didn't appeal to you or was perhaps outright misread. I've had friends and acquaintances admit they skimmed over the text looking for the famous sex scenes.**_  
_**B- Never said canon CG -was- a serial killer, but that he was like Ted Bundy (attractive, educated, dangerous)  
C- It's spelled 'dyke' unless you are implying I am an earthen dam? I'm assuming you're trying to be rude, but the lack of clarity makes it hard to decipher. Also, the historical reference to Hitler... when did I order the mass extinction of a people and overtake Europe? Dammit, I want an authentic Parisian croissant delivered via Panzer. NOW, because I'm Hitler. Pony up or you wasted your asinine point. PS- pussies are awesome but I'm damn near positive Hitler had a dog he loved more than Eva.  
**__**D- The fact that people get all squirrelly over the sex scenes doesn't make James a 'great' writer. There are things like syntax, grammar, and subject-verb agreement that the author has yet to master. Good for her for getting published- seriously that's awesome- and that's without any sarcasm. Shame on her for inadvertently endorsing rape culture; and by proxy, those readers who feel their author can do no harm and propagate said rape culture in their excitement to find or make their own Grey AND the publishers for marketing the book in magazines as a how-to rather than straight up fiction.  
E- You OBVIOUSLY have no idea how happy Ana is going to be in the end of this story... gleeful I tell you, and that's a promise. So, that's a happy ending with somebody. Making absolutes into points achieves nothing, as it displays your ignorance beyond your own little bubble of assumptions.  
**__**F- Actions Grey took to 'handle' Elena... yeah. That's my point. CG can't be in control all the time. It'll make one snap, as he so totally did.  
**__**G- LOOK I CAN WRITE IN CAPSLOCK TO AND FUCK PUNCTUATION/SPELLING UP AT THE SAME TIME, LIEK YOU!~ Did it make a difference in me making my point to you? No. Your attempt garnered that same reaction from me. Try communicating without the anger. It's more effective and I'll take you seriously. You may want to check into anger management or meditation- which ever works for you to enhance your inner calm. You're going to give yourself an aneurysm unless you can chill. For your own good, please chill.**_

_ANON REVIEW 2:_  
_Take your forum of abuse and fuck off. Nobody is interested in what happened to say you dumb ass...boohoo for you, so you got smacked around. See a fucking shrink, don't go venting on FSOG and destroying characters to send a message. You probably asked for the ass whooping you got, you seem like a moody bitch to write this shit. See a shrink or get fucking laid and have the cob webs removed you friggit bitch pussy._

**_[Mandi Rei]_**  
**_A- Nope. Why should I? Because strangers on the internet get all yippy like pissed off chihuahuas pups? Not a good enough reason. Because you demanded it? Ha. If you've been reading along, you know who just helped CG go over the edge some more resulting in more details that you may want to know. Ever read RED DRAGON? Gonna be kinda like that. Alas. Or to quote you, "_boohoo." **  
**_B- Other reviewers would disagree._**  
**_C- You are totally missing the point that CG is a picture perfect example of why women stay in abusive relationships, and how domestic abuse can be found in every societal status. Maybe, just maybe... that's why I'm making him a bad guy who doesn't realize it? Damaged beyond redemption?_**  
**_D- Never said I got an "ass whooping" so making assumptions isn't working in your favor- I was in an abusive relationship, and the fact that you think that exclusively means physical violence shows your ignorance at the fifty shades that make up domestic violence. Educate yourself, and you too can be empowered. You just gave me a pristine reason why this sort of thing needs to be written. And the fact that you think violence against others is justified shows just how in tune you are with _my_ version of your beloved character. He thought Ana deserved "correction"- or did you miss that chapter? Seriously, you channelled the fucked up version of CG- my version of CG. You don't find that at all hypocritical? The difference between you and me: I don't wish beatings on others, most especially REAL people. I wish you no ill. CG and Ana are imaginary, and I don't believe in storming EL James' home, pitchfork in hand (but you are welcome to use that mental image, if it makes you feel better.) What happens on FF doesn't affect them in any way. You don't seem to grasp that, just like I can't seem to grasp why people find CG attractive, beyond his appearance and wealth. Real people get hurt, imaginary ones experience it on paper (or screen)... that's reality for you. I'm sticking to fiction for the violent aspect in my life, thanks.  
__E- My boyfriend fucks me exceptionally well on a regular basis, thanks for your interest in my sex-life (ps, he's my Dom and he's respectful of me when we're in a scene! Another reason I frown in CG's general direction- the unsafe practices when he puts his Dom pants on in anger. I found those troubling scenes as someone who enjoys getting my own brand of naughty on) Perhaps that's why I'm handling this in a calmer manner than you (although you are free to disagree. Evidently when I make my views known, it's shouted down and I'm expected to listen to those who talk shit without responding, as if I'm their sub.) Maybe take your own advice since you seem more familiar with the cobwebbed genitalia thing? I've never come across such a thing, and feel terrible for you. So, you might also want to address that issue first with a gynecologist or pest control- which ever you think would work best for your situation._**  
**_F- You may want to try meditation for your anger. You don't want a stroke, do you?_**

And that, dear readers, is why I won't stop writing this until it's beyond a shadow of a doubt completed.

**An Open Question to Ardent Fans I Probably Pissed Off But Am Trying to Understand Their Point of View on this Particular Topic Better Without Starting a Flame War (alack, too late for some, I know. Sorry.):**  
It's not my intention to stop you from reading books you enjoy but to offer a different point of view. Is your pleasure really impeded by a dissenting standpoint? If you adore mocha-caramel lattes, but I didn't, would the latte in your hands not be as scrumptious to your taste buds? Hell no. My views on java and highly sweetened beverage consumption fail to impede your enjoyment. My quirked eyebrow and frown are not attached to your taste buds or brain. So where is the harm with me discussing my dislike of coffee excreted by civet cats (a gourmet thing!) and preference for tea involved in a fair-trade agreement when there are others such as I who are surrounded by Civet Cat Coffee and crave something a little different to sate our tastes? Can we not enjoy our Earl Grey Tea at the same location as well, as they both go in cups, all nice and hot?

When people state, "It's only fiction, get over it," they _are_ endorsing abuse, because they're attempting to silence actual discussion of an important society-wide issue and open dialogue is how we address and remedy these issues within our society. They are informing abuse advocates and survivors that their own indulgence derived from FSoG is more meaningful than real life concerns over genuine experiences and that they would rather those keep the experiences to themselves so the readers can continue to enjoy this book.

Is that truly your feelings? Are you defending the novel, or yourself for deciding to read it?

It was suggested that I take my story to shelters and whatnot. Here's the thing- those people already know the dangers and faced them and finally got out of a terrible situation. I'm trying to reach others who may have enjoyed FSoG but not CG so much and couldn't exactly put a finger on why, or those who can say, "yeah, I liked it but it does have some issues that are also rife in our culture, only glamorized", or those who simply detested the leads, and finally, those who are simply open to other perspectives and derive pleasure from this like those who enjoy thrillers for entertainment's sake, just as avid readers enjoyed all the sex in FSoG (and there's nothing wrong with enjoying sex, as it's a defining part of our humanity and a lovely way to bond with someone special) because it wasn't the norm for most commercial books - which I also think is pretty nifty about FSoG- it brought erotica to the mainstream. I don't utterly hate the book, really. It got people reading and I count that as a good thing. It opened a door for people to explore erotica without shame, and that fucking rocks.

Finally, please note I don't go into other stories posted in this fandom, blasting the authors and readers for enjoying CG being himself (and then some)... I don't shame or wish them harm. I accept that there are plenty of those stories, and my views don't reflect the target demographic, and those tales are just fiction created by people who are passionate about writing and figuratively sculpting something new with clay provided by the franchise. Their tastes are not a fixture in my life, nor do I feel compelled to exact judgement upon them, make assumptions about their character, nor make accusations because I don't necessarily agree with the topic at hand.

Just food for thought.

[ end of open question ]

It seems that no matter which side speaks, there's more meaningful conversation with brick walls than having a rational discussion regarding Mr. Grey and his proclivities due to polarized views. I'm likened to psychopaths (because it's fake people getting hurt at my hands, not real ones) and whatnot, and if that's how people feel, fine. I know I've been snarky in my responses, but seriously, after getting unhinged 'reviews' like the ones featured above, would you just sit there and say nothing and permit bullying tactics without standing up for yourself? I'm the kind of wench who will totally say (or type) my thoughts when I find it amusing or horrifying. The reviews above are a mixture of both.

After studying socio/psychopaths and being able to translate that education into a story for others to read, I feel kinda sorta accomplished and among the (wiith me very low on the totem pole) ranks of other writers of horror who got shat upon for their blood-saturated tales. So thanks for the ego boost, guys. I can only imagine the hate mail Stephan King got for_ IT_, _Carrie,_ and _Cujo, _or Dean Koontz for_ The Funhouse_ (that was a book that disturbed me on a couple of levels) or in regards to the murder scene from _The Door to December._

And to sum this much-too-long note up, I'm telling you now I'll be cutting back on them so I can focus on the writing, although _important_ announcements will still be relayed via author's note at the tail end of chapters.

No more long winded treatises on those of differing views. I promise (and pinky swear) to ya.

Thanks for reading.

-M R S


	33. Chapter 32

_**ANA**_

* * *

Fergus just sailed off in his longship, heading off to Redding, "To pillage Iona!" as he put it, leaving O'Malley and I with the unpleasant task of emptying the pigment out of paintballs and filling them via syringe with various scent lures and attractants. I got the job of clipping a tiny hole in the firm gelatinous sphere and squeezing out the paint without tearing the hole beyond repair. O'Malley used a different needleless syringe for each scent, filling two paintballs before handing them back to me so I could patch the holes with epoxy. They each got nestled in an egg crate to dry.

Scent lures stink to the human nose. Except for the bacon scented bear lure, but even that didn't smell quite right. O'Malley already brought in Odin and Freyr, the other two huge guard dogs I didn't know existed out in the back forty and dabbed a single tree with the bear attractant. Other trees got pigs-in-rut, doe-in-rut, buck-in-rut, even something that calls chipmunks and squirrels and those same smelly liquids formed the filling for these fucked up bonbons. The two dogs were stationed in the fenced perimeter of the house, while Loki patrolled outside the fence. "I think I need to bathe my nose in bleach after this. Good god, this stuff is terrible!" I coughed as the stink saturated the air around us. At least the elbow-length latex gloves helped keep the stink off our hands.

"It's not supposed to smell good to ya, Ana. But this shite works like a magic potion. Just make sure to take Loki with you where ever you go once you're outside the fences." I nodded, handing him the last empty paintball, which he filled with the bear lure. He handed it back and said, "That one is our silver bullet. Keep it separate from the others, we don't want it mixing in unless shit gets ugly fast."

So far, my participation in the plan to drive Christian away without a fatality for anyone involved has been regaled to paintball prep, and lessons with a wrist-rocket slingshot. It's hoped that he would give up before making it through the acre of berries and nettles. I was forbidden from wandering out in the backwoods while O'Malley and Fergus prepped for god-knows what beyond their original plans. They tried considering every potential, including intercepting him and informing him that he's trespassing and calling the sheriff. If he leaves, that's it, and happy day to be celebrated with _sake_. Taylor will help me get bodyguards and I can file for divorce. I seriously didn't want anything from Christian, not even my beloved books. Just my freedom and for him to leave my friends and family out of this whole mess.

In a way, I missed the man I fell for back in the day, when the excitement of it all made me all tingly and ecstatic. It was so thrilling, going on trips to places I never thought I'd see, nor own things as exquisite as I once did, or being pampered in ways only the privileged few get to experience. But it all came at a price I didn't realize had attached when I got all head-over-heels for someone who wouldn't or couldn't allow me autonomy without his mistress' consent. And while he and Elena weren't sleeping together any more, his emotional involvement with her was nothing short of unsettling.

"Why the long face?" Alistair O'Malley looked in my direction with that certain gaze of his that always elicited tingles in my nethers and prickles of excitement on my scalp. His voice was gentle and soft and musical to my ears.

"Was thinking of the past. Hindsight bias and all that." Couldn't keep the sad tone echoing out my mouth.

He gave half a frown. "Here's to the past serving as life-long lessons on what not to do!" and with that, he handed the silver bullet paintball to me for the epoxy treatment.

With a hearty dab of stinky gel and smoothed over the little hole to seal in the stink, I put the last paintball off by its lonesome in a corner of the egg crate. "I suppose. So, what's your story? Why are you sticking around for the rodeo?" I couldn't deny that I found O'Malley intriguing as well as attractive. His eyes lifted at the outer edges, giving him an elfin appearance without the pointy ears. His nose, aquiline and his mouth, delightfully wide with a narrow bottom and full top lip that I wanted to nibble. A square jawline completed his face. The rest of him was just as delicious with broad shoulders, muscular, well-defined arms and an ass that I secretly admired every time he walked by, or I walked behind him. He was a potent elixir and I wanted to sample him, but kept it to myself. Didn't need more complications in my life quite yet.

O'Malley cleared his throat. "Well, until recently, I've been in Flagstaff, working on a homestead. Before that, Finger Lakes area in New York, doing pretty much the same thing. Before that, North Dakota working on oil rigs for a few years. Sticking around because I feel the need." And with that, he swept his eyes over me before giving me a little smile.

The blood rushed to my face. "That, and you are secretly enjoying this, I bet." I felt that I could challenge him without it getting fugly.

He chuckled. "You'd be right. I am enjoying it," and the smile fell from his face, "I don't like the thought of why you are here and why we're prepping for a war on the home front. This man after you, he doesn't know when to stop, does he?"

Slowly I shook my head and ice replaced my blood. "No, although if he did it'd solve a lot of the issues I've got with him." I shivered at the thought of the St Andrew's cross. Wish I could pretend it never happened, that it was nothing but a shitty dream. If that were the case, I wouldn't be exiled to the northern Californian sticks and in the care of Viking Celts.

"What's his problem?"

"He demands obedience from everyone around him. The only one who gets any slack is a woman who utterly hates me and manipulates him into doing terrible things. I wish she never existed in his life, and that his wounds didn't go so deep. I get that bad things happen to people and those experiences color how they see the world, but I don't understand why he feels entitled to do as he damn well pleases when people around him aren't doing anything other going about their own business. But his mind just doesn't operate like that. He gets tunnel-vision and then whips out his figurative laser-sharks to make things as he see fit."

"Laser-sharks? Sounds like he means business." O'Malley picked up the egg crate and put it atop the refrigerator so the epoxy could harden.

I gestured to the collection of paintballs. "He does, otherwise we wouldn't be messing around with animal urine." I wrinkled my nose. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose."

"Well, with that task done, what would you like to do?" A lock of his nut-brown hair fell over one eye and I wanted to brush it out of his gaze.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Movie? Video game? Scrabble?"

Stripping his gloves off and dropping the used syringes into an empty soda bottle before screwing the cap back on, he said, "Movie sounds good. What genre?"

"How about _300_? I've wanted to watch it without Fergus's commentary on the fighting and hard bodies."

With a chuckle, O'Malley stated in a dead-pan voice,"Well, those are two out of the three things he loves most in life."

I giggled. "So I have discovered."

"Has he made you sit through _Puppetry of the Penis_ yet?"

That earned a full on laugh. "Yes, my first day. Couldn't wait to whip it out." I threw my gloves in the trash and sat lotus-position on the leather couch.

"The first time he watched it, he had me on the phone and gave me a blow by blow description of what was going on. From then on, I vowed to let him enjoy penis in private."

"Silly me, thought that's how one is suppose to enjoy it." It came out more flirty than anticipated.

Didn't seem to phase O'Malley much. "Same here, but the Mighty Viking marches to his own war drum."

He sat at the other end of the couch and grabbed the TV's remote control. The television was Fergus' one concession to the twenty-first century, being a large plasma screen mounted to the wall opposite the couch. Press of a few buttons and we were watching a live-action graphic novel with On Demand. Halfway through and he got up to fetch himself and I glasses of water.

"May I ask you something, Ana?" The way he drawled my name definitely gained my full attention.

Curiosity grew in my mind. "Sure." O'Malley seemed the sort who generally didn't ask permission to ask questions.

He cleared his throat and turned to face me. "When things settle down, would you possibly be interested in going out sometime? I know a lovely little bistro in Sacramento. A friend of mine is the Chef, and I'm sure Davie would love to meet someone who has captured my attention so thoroughly."

Damn the blush I could feel renewing in my face! "I...I'm not against the idea, but I would appreciate some time before any, uh, _ardent courtship_. I got some demons to deal with and I don't want to make you suffer for the things _he_ did to me. I can't deny that you've piqued my interest." It's only been four weeks since Taylor arranged my flight from Christian, and while away from him and breathing deep of fresh air, I had a lot of time to put things in perspective, including my growing attraction to a man I wasn't married to, but desired to kiss, among other things.

I did love my husband once, with the intense passion of a first deep affection, else I wouldn't have married him. He pursued me, like in movies, and didn't want to let me go. But it was the reactions when I'd try having a backbone which really killed it for me. If he really loved me, wouldn't have accepted me as I am, as the woman he fell in love with? Sometimes I felt like a project to him, and that nothing I did would every satisfy his expectations of what I was supposed to do or act. And bringing in Elena just sealed the deal. How different would my marriage have been had Elena been arrested for being a pedophile abuser when Christian was a teen?

Understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes. "More than fair. Take as much time as you need. If we were to get involved, I don't want you to have any doubts about the regard I have for you." A small smile and gentle look in his eye punctuated his statement.

Couldn't help but to smirk and reply flirtatiously, "If we _were_ to get involved, it's because I had no reservations about wanting to be with _you_." I meant that. Already he had me charmed with his rather sweet approach, and consideration for my feelings and much-needed period of healing. "I like you Alistair O'Malley, and don't want to lead you on or give a misleading impression. I think you're attractive in the looks and personality department, and I get all excited and scared shitless at the same time, especially knowing my ex-husband is looking for me and that he won't quit until he makes his point. I really don't want to give him extra fuel for the fire, ya know?"

O'Malley frowned. "I understand and appreciate your honesty." With an earnest look on his face, he continued, "Hope I can demonstrate not all guys are like that and can take a hint."

I gave him a smile. "I think you've already showing me, Mister O'Malley."

"Aye, I am. I like it when you smile. When you're lost in thought, you get such a ... melancholy look on your face. Much prefer the smile you get and anticipate when I get to feel it under my own lips." He offered me a smile, revealing even and white teeth.

Oh good God, felt like my face was on fire. "I think I'd like that." I shyly whispered that, half-hoping he heard me very clearly and half-hoping he didn't. O'Malley must have heard it because he leaned toward me, closing the distance between his body and my overly-warm own.

"I like it when you say my name, lass. _Say it again for me._" I could feel his coffee-scented breath on my skin and my pussy began to clench with my own anticipation. This man seemed a flame to my moth. I wanted to bask in his warmth without burning myself, and I didn't even know if it was possible. But tonight, right now, I felt gloriously more alive than I have in an incredibly long time.

Breathlessly, I whispered his name as he requested. "Alistair O'Malley."

His calloused hand cupped my face while electricity seemed to surge through me like an erotic pinball machine, making every nerve in my body sing in joy at his gentleness of touch and voice. "Ana..." Impulsively, I turned my head and kissed his rough palm, simply enjoying the sensation of his touch on my skin, causing him to say in a low voice, "Don't put your lips on me unless you want me to put mine on you."

I removed my face from his palm, sat back and studied him a brief moment before speaking. "I enjoy your touch way too much." Then I leaned back toward him and touched his face. He did as I had done, turning his stubbly cheek to kiss my palm. "Oh, it's official, I like your lips too." I smiled at him, enjoying the way he blushed for once.

With a wry smile of his own, Alistair O'Malley informed me, "Well, Ana lass, that's as much of my lips you'll be getting until you're ready for more. You said you needed time, and time is what you'll get. And when you're set, you can have my lips wherever you choose."

I gave him a wicked smile in return. "Likewise, Alistair."

He laughed as did I. The only thing weighing me down was the knowledge that this happy little bubble around me wouldn't last, not for long, not when the reality of the situation means certain demise if my husband should find me, let alone find me with an attractive man.

The retribution for such a betrayal... I didn't want to think of it because I knew my imagination couldn't compare with what Christian would have in store.

* * *

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_

I made this chapter extra-long to make up for the length of my author's notes, especially the last one, which I know was very wordy.

[food for thought] - been trying to play up the romantic aspects of Taylor and Gail as well as, Ana and Mr. O'Malley, so that this story isn't devoid of love and affection, and that there are positive and healthy behaviors displayed to be enjoyed. See? Not all _doom and gloom_ except for Ana's emotional conflict about her hubby, and that's not so much _gloom_ as retrospection in this chapter.

_Good writers have two things in common: they prefer to be understood rather than admired; and they do not write for knowing and over-acute readers.  
_-Friedrich Nietzsche

-M


	34. Chapter 33

Fergus docked the longboat around six-thirty in the morning, walking into the house with a bounce in his step. I handed him the cup of coffee I poured for myself and snatched another cup. Alistair hadn't woken up yet and slept through the ringing phone and my conversation with Taylor in the dark hours of the night.

"Ah, perfect timing, no doubt. Pillaging: check; planning: check; coffee," He lifted the steaming cup high, the cracked rim highlighted by fluorescents overhead. "Check. Next up is the tour, then Hell breaks out. Status?"

With my cup of java in hand, I turned to The Viking and said, "Check the top of the fridge for the paintballs you ordered up." Took a sip of the dark brew and enjoyed the warmth flowing through me. "The one all by itself is the bear one."

"I don't want it used unless he's really out for blood, Ana. Perhaps the sight of a black bear on hind legs would send him running to his car and heading to the nearest bathroom to shit himself. Idea is let nature handle the outskirts, we'll only get nasty if he starts getting closer to the house. Taylor is going to drive him in on the old service road- from there, it's an eight mile hike to the back fence. We baited the outer-most trees with the rodent attractant. Squirrels and chipmunks might even try to hump his ankles."

As I was taking a sip of the hot brew, I coughed and choked when I got the mental image of Disney critters getting their freak on with Christian's handmade Italian loafers. Fergus continued explaining his battle plan. "Closer he gets to the house, bigger the animals get. That's why Odin and Freyr are penned in the yard- if there's a bear anywhere near here, we want it close enough to intimidate an intruder. It's the bucks that scare me more, though. Their antlers aren't fully formed this time of year, but when they smell a doe in heat, they get all sorts of crazy. And if they smell that another male has been scratching his antlers in this buck's territory, he will see red and attack pretty much anything that moves. Their hooves are sharp, and any antler without velvet on it... well, that'll fuck up someone's day. After the bucks, there's the hog wallow. O'Malley baited it with sow estrous, and here's hoping old Tuskadeer is looking for his lady-love."

"_Tuskadeer_?" I tried not flushing at the mention of Alistair, but couldn't help myself. Last night during the movie blew me away, and there's a part of me that wished he had kissed me stupid until our clothes had melted off into a frenzy of unquenchable desire, that his calloused hands wove through my hair and held me as his mouth moved over mine. The mental image sparked a body-wide blush and I tried focusing on Fergie's plan.

"Yeah, a big ol' hog with a broken tusk. He gored a deer I shot when it tried bedding down near the wallow. Wasn't pretty and he got a broken tooth for his troubles. Hence, he _Tusked A Deer_."

"I see. After that, the bear's turn?"

Fergus nodded. "Yep, assuming there's even one in the neighborhood. Could be there's not one for twenty miles or a hundred. If our target gets past the bear-tree, he'll be on the border of the stinging brambles. If he gets through_ that,_ he's still got to deal with razor blades and fish hooks. But if he comes any closer, we're not going to play nice any more. Already took the back hoe and got a deep hole ready should we need it. And should we not, well, I know where I'm putting a garden."

I could feel my eyes widen in surprise. "Oh no. Please no! Not cold-blooded murder!" Shivers filled my being. I didn't want anyone's death on my hands. "There's got to be another way..." Maybe they could hog-tie Christian and drag him to the Sheriff for trespassing or something- perhaps that is a valid option.

Fergus crossed his arms across his massive chest. "Murder is in regards to innocents. Execution is for someone guilty." He cocked he head and asked with a touch of sarcasm, "Which one is he again?"

Alistair's voice came from behind me. "The hole is a last resort _only._ If he gives us any other choice to get him to leave you be, we'll gladly take it, Ana."

I looked over my shoulder at a sleep-tousled O'Malley. He wore only green zombie bunny slippers and blue plaid flannel pajama pants which hung from his sculpted hipbones, revealing a hairy trail starting at his navel and traveled south into the waistband. Had to suppress the shudder of arousal that messed with my head, and instead nodded slowly. "I understand, but I don't want his demise on my hands. I'm not at all okay with that. Anything else, please." There's too much at risk legally to entertain that thought. I didn't want to trade my freedom for prison walls, serving time for murder in the first. Didn't want Fergie to be at risk because he's already risked enough for me. Same as Taylor. These men have been incredibly supportive of me getting away from Christian... seems shoddy for anyone of us to end up in prison.

Well, except for maybe Christian.

The Viking clamped a large hand on my shoulder, taking a swig of coffee before stating, "I know how you feel, Ana. And I promise to you that I will not directly hurt him _unless_ he tries to harm you. If that happens, he's fucked and there's no two ways about it. That is the one line I cannot allow him to cross. He has put you through enough and no more; not on my property, or when I'm around is all I'm sayin'."

I nodded again, feeling terribly mixed about the whole situation and sincerely hoped that Christian would give up the ghost, leaving me be. "I hope he _really_ hates nettles."

"I hope he hates having squirrels try reproducing with his lower extremities." Alistair drawled. "He wouldn't make it past the first circle of Hell, making things easy for us. That's best case scenario." Alistair walked over to me, laid his hand across my forehead and kissed it's back.

"What's that for?" Fergus demanded.

I smiled. "Alistair will not permit his lips to touch me, so he's using a hand-condom."

"You kids these days are into some weird shit. We got other things to focus on than Sunday-school style dating."

Alistair took a step back and declared, "I made my intentions known to her last night," and ducked Fergie's flying fist.

"We got a cobra looking to tangle with us, you don't need to piss it off more." The stern warning in The Viking's voice echoed what I told Alistair last night.

"Relax. I didn't kiss her, I kissed the back of me hand. Where's the harm in it, especially when we defang the cobra tonight?"

After heaving a deep sigh, The Viking said, "There's a bottle each of _sake_ and _ume shu_ in the long ship for celebration time." He gave me a side-glance. "_If everything happens as planned_. At any rate, after breakfast, I'm taking Ana out and showing her the landscape." Addressing me, he said, "You'll have night vision goggles tonight for your paintball-slingshot adventure, but it doesn't hurt knowing the lay of the land in daytime. You know the wallow where we went mudboggin' but you've never been near the brambles. There's a hidden path to get through them and into the cannabis grove, but I don't think that's going to be much of an issue."

Couldn't believe that all the chess pieces were on the table and we were simply waiting for Christian's first move. As if his movement onto Fergus' property will echo through the woods and reverberate beyond the hills, declaring_ Game On._


	35. Chapter 34

**_TAYLOR_**

* * *

Six-thirty in the morning and_ finally_, Grey's jet touched down at Redding Municipal Airport. The summer day already seemed warm at a toasty eighty degrees. Good thing most of the day would be spent in the air conditioned rental car. He wouldn't be happy with the Toyota RAV 4, but the rental agency didn't have much of a selection. At any rate, it's better than a sedan for our purposes.

I was right. As soon as he disembarked from the jet and walked over to me on the airstrip, he said, "Really, Taylor?" while staring at the SUV.

"Sir, I thought it prudent to stay in the local area, rather than traveling to Sacramento to get something more luxurious." I fiddled with my smartphone, readying a voice-recording app. If I was going to be stuck in a car for several hours with the prime suspect responsible for the disappearance of the prize from a massive FBI bust, you bet your ass I wanted to have some evidence of her fate.

He pursed his lips like a spoiled kid who was offered cake with no frosting. "Fine. Do we know where she is?"

"Last report was that she was in Portland, Oregon and traveling south, with intentions to stay at a hippy commune in the woods near the East Park Reservoir. We can try to intercept her in Oregon, or we can wait for her to make it to the commune."

Grey got in the backseat of the Toyota. "We intercept her."

It never failed to surprise me how he never asked for details for confirmation or my sources. Just blind faith that I would not, _could not,_ lead him astray. "She should be driving a yellow VW Beetle with New York plates ending in H3L." Good luck finding that combo in this neck of the woods. Our wild goose has just been let loose.

"Let's go, then! She needs to come home where she belongs. Why the hell would she want to join a hippy commune?"

I got in, started the car and made my way to I5. Got in the northbound lanes and started the journey to Oregon. "Perhaps she thought you would never find her at such a place?"

"She should know better, that I'll always find what's mine."

Rolled my eyes. _Puh-leeze._ Then ice rolled down my spine when he said, "What I want to know is how she got out of the house. Something's wrong with that aspect."

Took a deep breath and said, "Wish I knew, sir. I've never had the drop on me like that- I want to find those responsible for my own reasons sir. I'm sure you can understand why."

Saw him nod reflected in the rear-view mirror. "Yes. Getting your own drop on them, no doubt."

I smiled. "Yes, sir. Exactly that." Shadow boxing I supposed would have to suffice.

He sat in silence for nearly two hours, staring out the window or fiddling with his phone, until he muttered, "Stupid fucking insurance company. Fucking pay up or get a new client."

"Sir?" I couldn't resist asking. My ears perked when he mentioned insurance. Life? House? Property? Car? Which insurance issue was he having? Did he take out life insurance on Elena or Ana in hopes of cashing in?

"Fire at the stud farm early this morning. Pump house, generator, pump. Not much damage, but the shack burned to the ground and they won't have an adjuster available for two days."

That was news to me. The man is wealthy enough that whether the insurance paid or not, the whole shebang could easily be replaced. But he was a man of certain principals and that was one, evidently.

"Sir, the morning news has reported Elena Lincoln missing. If she can't be found, there will be no way for her to recant the confession she made to the authorities."

That seemed to stir him. "Missing? Hopefully that stupid bitch is dead in the ocean and unable to pollute humanity anymore."

Wow. That was the first time I ever heard him voice anything resembling that sentiment about Lincoln. "She was removed from custody, they got a male figure on security camera, so whoever that was would have the perfect opportunity to do arrange her demise." Combined with the bloody clothes Gail found, and this new knowledge that a potential crime scene had been torched... Things weren't looking particularly well for Mr. Grey.

He couldn't sit still and it seemed to confirm my suspicions. Grey fidgeted with the window, cracking it and leaning his head in such a way the air went straight into his face. When we neared Ashland, just over the Oregon border, the boss told me to find a rest room. Pulled into the nearest Starbucks. He ran in, and I hurriedly saved the conversation recording I made before calling Gaia.

"News?" She barked out the single word as a greeting.

"Yeah. Get a warrant for Grey's stud farm. Last night a building caught on fire and he made the comment that hopefully she's dead and in the ocean- his farm does include coastline. Plus I got a call from the housekeeper that she picked up Grey's clothes when he came home from his adventures last night. They were covered in blood."

"That's not the news we wanted, but we'll take it. If we find her anywhere near his property, he will be arrested."

I breathed deep. "If he gets arrested, it's only a matter of hours before his lawyer will bail him out, and he'll run. I can't picture him staying put for a trial unless his assets are frozen and a judge declares him at risk for flight."

"Thanks for the update. I'll see what strings I can pull, but you stay next to his side and DO NOT permit him out of your sight."

"Yes, ma'am."

Gaia hung up just as Grey walked through the Starbucks exit, a coffee in one hand and a pastry in the other.

As soon as he got into the car, he asked, "Any news?"

"Yes, sir. To Medford, we should intercept her around there. It's about two hours." The smell of the boss' coffee tickled my nose and I highly doubted he'd let me go inside and fetch my own. No use in asking. Next time I fill up the tank, I'll get some energy drinks.

Frustration sat in his voice. "I should have flown my helicopter. We'd have her by now."

Clearing my throat, I replied, "She would expect that, sir. I don't think she'd assume you coming after her in a car."

"I'd come for her over broken glass. She should know that." Absolute certainty shone in his statement.

Made me wonder if wild berry brambles counted?


	36. Chapter 35

_**ANA**_

* * *

Feeling conflicted when one's life is potentially on the line isn't an auspicious way to start the day. After a heavy breakfast of sausage gravy over biscuits, Fergus and I hopped into the Mule and he took me on a tour of the battlefield to come. Took us about forty minutes to reach the Three Pines. It marked the boundary between his property and a gravel lane simply known as the service road. Turning to me he, he scratched his hairy chin and asked, "Do you want to stay at the house tonight? Or do you want to see him?"

I swallowed, knowing I couldn't just hide away forever. I'd have to see him again, if only once to tell him to go visit Hell for an extended stay. "I don't want to see him, but I cannot stay at the house, not knowing what's happening and waiting for you guys to come back. No, I want to participate tonight. I have to, got no real choice."

He put a hand on my shoulder and stared intently into my eyes. "Very well. Weapon choice? You can't see him if you're not protected."

Giving him half a smile, I replied, "The Sig Sauer .357 and the spear you made me."

"I likes. Loki stays by your side, as well. Going to need a Valkyrie helm?" Fergus stretched his arms high into the air before rolling his shoulders to relax them.

That elicited a giggle. "No, not up to Valkyrie level quite yet." And I found out that the typical horned helmet associated with Vikings is a falsehood. They didn't have horned headgear, although the Valkyries had wings on their helmets. Ah, things the Viking had to teach me.

Fergus got out, hung up a green canvas rucksack in one of the pine trees. "Ah, the welcome gift for your Taylor. Water balloons of stinky stuff."

I wrinkled my nose as I stepped down from the Mule's cab. "I don't want to know what kind of stinky stuff."

"That is correct, you don't. But Taylor gets a little revenge." He found a long, fairly straight branch, tossed it to me. He found one for himself and we began to spar with our makeshift spears. He twirled his like a helicopter propeller over his head before lunging the shaft toward my face. I brought my stick up in a sweeping motion, blocking his blow. I faked with the tip, as if I aimed for his face, but used the butt-end to almost hit his crotch. He laughed. "Mercy is a good thing in certain circumstances. You're learning well."

He swung his stick around his back, only for it to come over a shoulder, aimed for my stomach. I side-stepped and brought my spear around to _thwack!_ him across the back. "Sorry for the cheapshot."

Fergus was done playing and used his makeshift spear to knock me in the knees, then attack my ankles, causing me to plop onto my ass. "Remember, last man standing is usually the winner." He gloated. I grabbed a handful of the forest duff and chucked it at his face. Being light, it didn't even make it chest high. "Oh, that's sad, lass. Rocks are better, got more _oomph_. Dirt is only effective if it gets in the eyes." He reached a hand out. I grasped it and he lifted me to my feet. "If you aren't staying in the house, you'll need to be fierce. I suggest using the infrared setting on the night vision goggles. It's spiffy."

"Duly noted." I brushed the decomposing leaf litter from my rump.

He crossed his muscular arms over his broad and chest. "What's up with you and O'Malley? I don't like that hand-condom thing. You guys getting worried for each other rather than focusing on the task at hand could potentially be an issue tonight."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I like him, Fergus. But I told him I didn't want to get involved until after things are settled with Christian. He was okay with that."

The Viking shook his head. "I don't like it. Not one bit. But you are both adults and fuck if anyone ever listens to me." He pulled out his cigarette case and lit a joint, inhaling deeply before slowly releasing the smoke. "There's billions of people on the planet and he has to declare his intentions on you, Shieldmaiden. I don't like it."

"Why don't you like the idea of O'Malley and I together?" I couldn't resist asking him, surprised by his strong opinion.

It was his turn to shrug shoulders. "I don't want my cousin to be a rebound. He's a good guy, but he's not the average gent. I don't want the man hurt."

I frowned. "I can understand that, and I already told him I needed to get things right in my own head before he and I explore _anything_ together."

Fergus sighed. "Well, at least one of you is using your head."

Scoffing, I replied, "Well, I come equipped with only one. Don't have the auxiliary brain issue like guys." _Smirk_.

He laughed. "True enough. Well, wench, time for us to head inland." We piled back into the Mule and meandered toward the house, every now and again Fergus would point out a tree stand where sniper shots could be made or trail cams hung from branches. Some just took photos, others remotely transmitted live-video to Fergus' TV. That's how The Viking planned on keeping tabs on who is where. He cut notches in the tree at hip height to mark the best path to the brambles. The idea was to wander in the dark with Loki, making noise and giving him the heeby-jeebies. Pelt with a tainted paintball, try to get more animals in on the action.

I could do that. With more glee than necessary. Felt at war with myself, though. I knew without a doubt I needed my freedom. Wasn't sure how I'd react when I see Christian, and not knowing bothered me quite a bit. Also, Fergus' views on Alistair and myself. What will I do when tonight is over? Can't stay with Fergus forever. Could I leave Alistair in the past as I forge my future? Or was he willing to come along for the ride? So many things took up the space in my mind that that I felt pensive about the coming night.

The day crept toward afternoon. We reached the house, and Alistair had lunch ready. My appetite seemed to fade with each hour as the summer sky began to darken into twilight. After dinner, I dressed in dark jeans, a black and blue flannel shirt over a white tee, and hiking books. Fergus and Alistair both wore camouflage and black boots, balaclavas that showed only their eyes.

"Wow. I feel underdressed." Couldn't keep the comment to myself.

The Viking handed me the shoulder holster, which I buckled into place before sliding the .357 pistol into place. My spear leaned next to the front door, the ash handle burnished with beeswax to a golden glow. Fergus tossed me a black knit cap, which I used to help bundle my hair from sight and keep it contained.

Fergus turned the television to a channel which displayed ten trail cam feeds. One was aimed at the three pines, others at various trees splashed with game attractant, the path to the brambles.

At ten-thirteen, headlights shown on the TV as a black SUV drove slowly down the gravel road. My heart leapt to my throat and anger burned through me.

Tonight is my revolution, the one time Christian and I are fairly even. He may have strength, but I was taught to be quick. He hated guns, so odds are he's not carrying any weapon. I wanted out in the hills, to stalk him like an animal. To make him feel fear, to know he wasn't in control here.

I didn't know how tonight would play out. But I did know with all my being that there's no way in Hell that Christian would manage to drag me home.

Not alive, anyhow.


	37. Chapter 36

_**CHRISTIAN**_

* * *

This bullshit with running around Southern Oregon and Northern California chafed me more than sandpaper boxers. Night began to fall as we made our way south on I5, passing through Redding and heading to some little bumfuck town in the middle of rice fields, almond orchards, and dairies. We rode in silence, the last time Taylor spoke, being to inform me that Ana gave us the slip and made it already to the goddamn hippie commune. They better have love beads, gonna need some to tie her up so she'll listen to reason.

"Goddamn dirty hippies." Didn't mean to speak the sentiment aloud.

"Sir?" Taylor asked in that way of his- not sure he really wanted me to elaborate.

"Why would Ana go to some damned hippie commune? The logic escapes me." I heaved a sigh as the familiar stirrings of anger and lust wove into my bloodstream.

"She probably figured you'd never look for her in such a location, given that she knows your stance on socialist and communist activities, sir."

I nodded. That seemed likely. "Was she taken there by force? Or go there on her own free will? Never got ransom demands, so why would they take her?"

"Sir, she may be in full-on Patty Hearst mode. I do know for certain that she was taken- she never had an opportunity to seek outside help."

The certainty in Taylor's voice soothed me. "That's a good point." I did make sure she could only depend on me. Scared her protective guy friend away, he was my biggest threat.

"Sir, we're nearing our destination." Pitch black outside, with no hint of silvered light from the moon. We drove through a tiny village, the largest structure being the rodeo grandstands and the rural fire department building, lit with flood lights. There were far more trees than buildings.

We drove on a pot-hole riddled road, before turning right onto a tiny dirt road that could pass as a narrow bike path. Branches of conifers brushed the sides of the SUV, creating a nails-on-chalkboard sound that grate at my nerves. "Do you know where the commune is?" The forest seemed thicker at night, dense with glowing eyes staring in the darkness. I didn't like it. Best case, there's a drive way. Worst case, hiking at night.

"My source said to reach it, we drive down this road until there's a stand of three pine trees next to the road. Then it's a hike to the main dwelling. Once we're off the road, it's private property. Can't take this rig onto it, otherwise we leave evidence of trespassing."

"I don't give a shit about that, Taylor. They have my wife, and better give her back otherwise I'll buy the land and hide their bodies for trying to prevent me from getting what's mine." Heard Taylor heave a deep sigh. What's his fucking problem? If he's so concerned about not getting caught trespassing, then he can wait at the car, like the big boy he is, while I'll man up and seek my property. "How much further?"

"Any minute, sir. Looks like the woods are alive tonight."

Eyes lit by the moon or by the headlights of the Toyota seemed to surround us, and knowing I have to fucking hike in woods saturated with vermin just fueled the fire of my anger even more. "I can see that." I tried scanning ahead of us, looking for the three trees together as our marker. "There!" Two very tall pines, one not-so-high formed a little triangle a dozen yards away down the road. Taylor parked the SUV and got out to open my door. "Stay here. I'll call you if I need you."

"Sir, there might not be reception up here."

I shrugged my shoulders, not really giving a damn. Like I want him tailing me when I deliver the first bit of well-earned correction to my very deserving wife. "Then stay here until I get back. Do not leave your post."

"Yes, sir." Tone in his voice told me he didn't like that order. I'm sure he'll get over it. Taylor got back into the driver's seat, leaving the door open to illuminate the path down the road's embankment and onto the property owned by fucking California hippies. "Sir, my source said there's notches cut into some trees to show the way to the dwelling. Just follow the path, and you'll be there in a while."

I nodded. "Very good. And since my phone might not have reception, it at least has a flashlight app."

"Very good, sir." He sounded almost happy that I had illumination.

He got out of the car and walked to the stand of trees. Could hear him taking a piss, before the crunch of gravel underneath his boots gave away his location of heading back to the Toyota. I didn't turn around to look at him, just kept trying to find my footing over the forest floor covered with fallen branches.

"Sir! Don't move!" Taylor's voice echoed through the night and startling me.

"Why?" I put one foot out, trying to kick a branch out the way. The flashlight on my phone seemed very weak, and wasn't helping that much. All my focus was on not slipping from leaf litter beneath my handmade Italian loafers.

"Skunk behind you! Don't move!"

His words didn't make sense. A skunk? I'm larger than a skunk, it's noting more than a furry forest football. "Fuck that skunk!" And as soon as the words fell from my lips, I felt a giant slash on my back as something made impact. A horrid stench filled the air and I found myself dry heaving from the fumes.

"He got you, sir."

"Really, Taylor? I couldn't have fucking guessed!" I turned around and looked for that black and white fucknut responsible for spraying me. "Where is it? I'm going to kill the fucker! Make a fucking pair of slippers from it's hide! Where the fuck is it!" Anger boiled through every part of my being, fueling my anger even more. How dare Ana come to some god-forsaken place run by dirty goddamn hippies and animals deserving death? Why the fuck would she do that to me? I hated her more in that moment than I ever did.

Made me glad I saved rope and cinder blocks from my late date with Elena.

"It ran off into the woods after it sprayed you, sir."

"Fucking find it and skin it alive! I'm going to find my wife." Already wasted enough time meandering through Oregon and California today. I fucking meant business and I mean to complete the job.

"Yes, sir." Good Taylor. He might get a raise after tonight.

Stripped off my suit's navy jacket and threw it on the ground. The impact seemed to have centered itself on my back, and with it off, I stunk much less. With my cellphone's light facing the ground, I picked my way through debris, using fresh gashes in the trees show me the way. Every step made my blood boil in rage. How dare she do this? How dare she allow herself to be taken from her home? How dare she not come back to me! She would get twenty lashes this time. No gag. She doesn't deserve a gag. I want to hear her beg and plead and ask for my forgiveness. I want her cries to mean something.

And they will.

I began stomping in earnest, intent on finding Ana as soon as possible so I could have her bathe me. Repeatedly. Until the stink goes away. Every now and again, I'd see a flash of white out the corner of my eye before it'd disappear. Stopped, swiveled around and held my cellphone flashlight up high, trying to keep the dark at bay. "Who is out there?"

Nothing answered back, but a low menacing growl off in the distance. Made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Fuck it. If a wolf mauls me, so fucking be it. It'll get a mouthful of skunk ass. I started on my trek again, ignoring the growl in the dark, and the sound of twigs snapping as it followed me.

About a half hour of hiking, the forest thinned out a bit. Strange, primal scents filled the air, overwhelming the stench of skunk. A voice in the darkness startled me.

"Oye there! You're on private property. Turn around and leave else we call the cops and game warden."

I looked around, trying to seek the deep male voice that taunted me. "I'm looking for my wife. Heard she was at a hippie commune out here."

"Bucko, there's no hippie commune out in these woods." This time it was a different male voice, much more melodic than the first.

"Have you seen my wife? Her name is Ana. She was taken from me."

"By hippies? Get off my property. It's well within my rights to shoot trespassers, and I've got two guns pointed at your right now. Hippies don't carry guns, mate." The deeper male voice spoke again.

"I'm not leaving without my wife. I have very good information leading me to believe my wife is here." Frustration filled every pore. How dare they keep me from her! I know they have her!

"You're fucking crazy, wandering the woods at night. Ya know you're in a baited area? There's a pig we're hunting tonight and you're within striking distance of an angry boar." The second voice said.

"Give me my wife, and I'll go."

"Do you see your wife here, man? No? Then what makes you think we have her? We're hunting hogs, not kidnapping women."

I didn't believe them. "Where's the house? Maybe I'll find her there."

"The house is a seven mile hike. You're not dressed for it, and we're not leaving until the pig gets stuck."

It was then that I heard crashing in the brush, a few yards to my left.

The two voices called out, "_Tuskadeer_!"

An immense animal came thundering toward me before two gun shots sounded. I cringed and ducked behind a tree. Could hear a squealing pig and the pounding of footsteps. "Hold him, gotta cut the jugular!" I peeped around the tree to make out in the darkness, two figures huddled over the now-silent animal. The taller and heavier built of the two came stalking my way. Could see a large knife in his hand and hear the sound of blood dropping off it and landing on dry leaves. "You!" I started. He was snarling at me. "You, what the bloody fuck do you think you're doing? Trying to get shot or gored?"

How dare this peon address me so! "I told you already. I'm looking for my wife, Ana."

"If you see her, take her. If she's not here, then fucking go. No. I already told you to go. Hey, cuz? Got the satellite phone?"

"Aye, right here."

"Call the game warden. He'll show up here before the cops. Tell him there's a poacher here." He nodded toward me. "You better get gone before Rusty arrives. It'll give you about forty minutes to skedaddle."

"I'm not going anywhere." Didn't give a damn about his threat. I carry no weapon, how could I be a poacher? Stupid, ignorant fools.

"Suit yourself. Cuz, after you're done calling Rusty, help me carry the pig home. We need to dress it, and since this area is my private hunting grounds, I'm not going to clean it here." To me, he said, "Rusty's a decent sort, just don't make quick movements or his dog will get ya. She bites hard." Heard the other gent talk to someone on the phone, his voice too soft to make out individual words. Could barely make out the two men lifting the pig they shot and carrying it a short distance. Heard them put it in a vehicle bed, before they piled in and drove off. They went too fast for me to follow, and my phone's battery was at thirty-six percent. Wouldn't last all the way to the dwelling.

I'd just explain to the law enforcement that these men won't help me find my errant wife. Already determined to buy this property and raze every fucking inch with fire, this delay just irked the fuck out of me even more. I sat down and fumed. How fucking dare Ana ever associate with hippies or hunters? She is not the woman I married. But she will be, again. Don't know how long I sat in the dark, surrounded by stinking air when the growling returned, louder this time. Then more crashing through the brush. "Oh, fuck!"

This time, the animal was taller. It bellowed in a way that made me stand up, and look for a tree to climb for safety's sake.

"Don't stand up!" A strong female voice called out. It reminded me of Ana, but my wife never sounded that sure of anything.

I turned around, looking for the owner of the voice. "Why the hell not?"

"Watch out, he's charging you!"

Whipped around, to see the animal pawing the ground while lowering its antlers. "What the fu-"

Before the words could erupt from my mouth, the deer came lunging at me. Grabbed it by the antlers, tried forcing it to the side. But it was enraged, and lashed out with hooves landing blow after blow to my abdomin, while jerking it's head side to side, attempting to shake out of my grasp. Where the fuck is the wolf that stalked me? Here's a steak dinner, if he only wants it. I'd buy the wolf a diamond collar if it saved me from this murderous stag. With renewed vigor, the deer attempted lunging at me while I tried keeping the head-mounted weapons in check. A piece of the fuzzy coating ended up in my hand, the antler now free.

With a mighty swipe of its head, it landed a blow to my middle. Felt hot and cold at the same time, as my now-empty hands clung to my middle. Looked down and noticed my guts falling out. Oh fuck. A gun-shot sounded. Was I still alive? Was it the game warden that warned me not to stand? Cold seeped into me, and I began falling to my knees.

Oh fuck.

All I wanted was my wife.

* * *

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_

Made this chapter extra long to make up for me being on vacation and not updating for a while. Rest assured, gentle readers, that I'm not quitting this tale, and while it would seem this _could_ be the climax and near-ending, I decided Ana's going to get a delightful interlude with Mr. O'Malley. That's going to be several erotica-filled chapters. But first there's matters to attend. Stay tuned for next chapter!

Special invite for regular readers! This novel, being so divergent from the original text (characters, situations) could very well be a stand-alone with some minor tweaks. So that's what I'm doing. New tale, based on this one, with more chapters and sex! If you'd like a sneak peak at this novel, let me know via PM.

Thanks for reading this far!


	38. Chapter 37

_**ANA**_

* * *

Through the night vision goggles, I could see everything in shades of green, gray, and black. The only source of bright light happened to be the flashlight Christian held in his hand, as if it were garlic and cross to ward off vampires hunting him in the darkness. With a button press, I switched the mode to infrared. The forest lit up in a rainbow of colors, and I could see the outline of animals watching the showdown. Loki stood near me, glowing all sorts of shades of awesome. He watched Christian pick his way through Fergie's Forest of Misadventure, growling his displeasure at my husband's presence. I used my spear as a walking stick, making my way through the woods to haunt Christian's every step.

Saw when Taylor lobbed the water balloon filled with skunk spray at Christian's back. Couldn't believe that the amazingly intelligent Christian Grey couldn't tell impact from a projectile from actually being "sprayed," let alone at a height of mid-back. But he was focused on finding me, and I'm sure, was in a rage. It was easy to stay out of range of the tiny, ineffective flashlight Christian brought.

Fergus told me that women made better assassins because they had patience and could move much more quietly than men. There was still the crunch of twigs and forest dander beneath my hiking boots, but when combined with Loki's low, menacing growl, it made for quite the mind-fuck. I reached out and wove a hand into the dog's fur at the shoulder, scratching gently, trying to reassure him as much as myself that we were the ones in control. Loki stopped growling for a moment, and licked my hand.

Christian's shoes were not made for this kind of terrain. I don't know what possessed him to come out in the woods wearing business formal, but whatever. Made my job watching him just a little more entertaining.

He began to veer off course, not following the notched trees. Christian seemed to find the quick path to the hog's wallow bordering the deer baited trees. I knew The Viking and O'Malley were staked out in tree stands about a dozen yards apart. Being that I was on the ground in hunter mode, they would provide back up cover if a rampaging critter came my way and had the drop. Granted, the huge dog next to me would help, but they weren't willing to leave me be as I trekked through the woods. There were several tree stands in this area, for quick escapes from ground warfare. Every now and again, I'd use the wrist rocket sling-shot thingie O'Malley gave me with the paintballs I carried with me in a little leather sack dangling from a belt loop, aiming a tree next to Christian. I didn't want to shoot him outright and get him so riled he couldn't be reasoned with, but I aimed them so the splatter made contact with him. As the paintballs burst, it sounded like a big twig snapping, and I liked how the sound made him super jumpy.

About a mile into our jaunt in the woods, and Christian made it to the stands. I went to an unoccupied stand, leaned my spear against the tree and ordered Loki to 'stay here' in Icelandic. "Vertu hér, Loki." The dog sat next to the spear's butt as I climbed up the ladder to the metal cage eight feet off the ground. Each rung of the ladder was sunk into the tree, with wood growing around the metal rods, anchoring them quite tightly. From my vantage point, I saw Christian meander into a ring of trees, no more than ten feet from me.

Heard Fergus call out to him, "Oye there! You're on private property. Turn around and leave else we call the cops and game warden." Could see The Viking in his tree stand, pointing a big rifle at Christian. O'Malley was in his stand, rifle at the shoulder, aimed at the two-legged intruder.

Christian whipped his head around, trying to court whiplash, searching for the body housing the voice. "I'm looking for my wife. Heard she was at a hippie commune out here."

O'Malley responded, "Bucko, there's no hippie commune out in these woods."

"Have you seen my wife? Her name is Ana. She was taken from me." Christian's tone indicated anger and building frustration. It merely stoked my anger, his want of tracking, finding, abusing me.

Fergus answered, sarcastic at first, before building to his quiet, intense version of anger. "By hippies? Get off my property. It's well within my rights to shoot trespassers, and I've got two guns pointed at your right now. Hippies don't carry guns, mate."

Christian's words would have sent ice through my spine before, but now it just built the fire in my gut. "I'm not leaving without my wife. I have very good information leading me to believe my wife is here."

"You're fucking crazy, wandering the woods at night. Ya know you're in a baited area? There's a pig we're hunting tonight and you're within striking distance of an angry boar." O'Malley warned him.

Crossing his arms, Christian retorted, "Give me my wife, and I'll go."

The Viking let his frustration show. "Do you see your wife here, man? No? Then what makes you think we have her? We're hunting hogs, not kidnapping women."

Christian's line of thought just irked me more. "Where's the house? Maybe I'll find her there."

Fergus stated matter-of-factly, "The house is a seven mile hike. You're not dressed for it, and we're not leaving until the pig gets stuck."

I could see a large form in the distance, the yellow and red blob filling my view through the infrared setting of my goggles.

The Viking Celts called out, "_Tuskadeer_!" which was my warning to be off the ground. The wild hog tried goring not just Fergus, but the Mule as Fergie drove off with his venison, also gored by the nasty-tempered pig.

Fergie and O'Malley both fired their rifles, knocking the pig down and causing Christian to hide behind a tree. The pig squealed in anger, while Alistar and Fergie jumped down from their stands and rushed to the pig.

The Viking told O'Malley to, "Hold him, gotta cut the jugular!"

When Alistar jumped on the pig's back, lassoed rope around it's snout, ensuring it wouldn't bite him, lifted the chin so Fergus could cut its neck and end its life. As soon as that was done, he stalked over to Christian, hiding behind a scrub oak, and said in fury, "You! You, what the bloody fuck do you think you're doing? Trying to get shot or gored?"

Christian bristled like a wet hen. "I told you already. I'm looking for my wife, Ana."

Sheathing his knife, Fergus said, "If you see her, take her. If she's not here, then fucking go." After a brief pause, he said instead, "No. I already told you to go. Hey, cuz? Got the satellite phone?"

"Aye, right here." O'Malley pulled it from his camo pants pocket.

While staring Christian down, The Viking said, "Call the game warden. He'll show up here before the cops. Tell him there's a poacher here." He addressed the trespasser, "You better get gone before Rusty arrives. It'll give you about forty minutes to skedaddle."

Wild arm gestures punctuated Christian's stubborn nature. "I'm not going anywhere."

With a shrug of his shoulders Fergus said, "Suit yourself. Cuz, after you're done calling Rusty, help me carry the pig home. We need to dress it, and since this area is my private hunting grounds, I'm not going to clean it here." To Christian, he said, "Rusty's a decent sort, just don't make quick movements or his dog will get ya. She bites hard."

O'Malley made the call and as soon as he hung up, he helped Fergus lift the boar into the Mule's cargo area. They hopped in and drove off, leaving me alone with Christian and Loki.

Christian sat down on a stump, I guess to wait for the Game Warden to escort him off the property. With him quiet, I could see animals starting to near, drawn by the scent lures which hung heavy in the air. It was a nice change of pace from the skunk stench soaking the man who wouldn't give me up. With the infrared, I could see some foxes ten yards off. There were a few does, and a couple spike bucks drawn in by the mixed use of buck rubbings and doe estrous. Then I saw him. Bambi's daddy- a huge buck with a rack easily a yard wide. Drawn in by the lures, the stag charged through the mesquite bushes, eagerly looking for either the frisky doe or the invisible buck invading his territory. It bellowed, and startled Christian.

"Oh, fuck!" He stood up and whirled around, trying to find safety in the dark.

"Don't stand up!" I called out to him. Hunkered down, the buck wouldn't think him a threat. But once he arose, he was advertising his presence, thus pissing the buck off even more.

Christian kept turning, looking for me. "Why the hell not?"

Stupid, stupid man! "Watch out, he's charging you!"

The buck had his head lowered, and pawed at the ground. Rather than retreating and showing the deer he wasn't a threat, Christian yelled, "What the fu-"

Before he could finish his statement, the deer lunged. Christian grabbed by the antlers, trying to keep the animal from basically running him over. But it was angry and kept kicking him in abdomen, and trying to jerk its antlers out of Christian's hands. Angry at being denied both a doe and a fight, the stag renewed its fury and shook free, leaving velvet in Christian's hand, rather than the antler. The buck's head-mounted knife set was free.

The deer's antlers ripped Christian's belly open, his guts spilling out like pink sausages between his fingers. Sinking to his knees, I jumped from the stand, unholstered and fired a round of my handgun into the ground next to me, spooking the aggressive buck into fleeing and getting my husband's attention just as he started for fall forward.

I ran to his side, not caring that he yelled to the skies that he'd find me, I dropped next to him, cradling him in my arms. "Oh, Christian... I never wanted you to get hurt!" Tears ran down my face. He wasn't supposed to die... and certainly not like this! I could feel vomit rise at the mess of organs I could see littering the ground. He had hurt me time and again, but I couldn't take pleasure at seeing a man die slowly in utter agony.

"You're...here." His labored breathing seemed to sap any of his remaining strength from his body. "You came back to me..." His voice trailed off as his silvered eyes shut for a moment before fluttering open again to slowly focus on my face, as I removed my night vision goggles. "I was horrible to you, Ana. You were right about Elena... I did something horrible to her. I...I...killed her at the horse farm and threw her over a cliff. Was so angry at her, at you for being gone. But you're here, with me. How did you know I needed you?"

I couldn't bear to tell him that we were trying to run him off, not arrange for our happenstance meeting, not when he seemed so genuine in his dying moments. "We need to get you to a hospital, Christian. Like right now." I didn't know how to move him without causing more of his innards to escape, or if he would even last long enough for a medi-flight to pick him up and fly him to Redding. I whipped off my flannel shirt and covered his torso with it. The whole mess couldn't hide beneath my makeshift blanket.

"Doesn't matter, Ana. I got what I had coming. Guess karma is true?" He coughed and I held his hand, tightening it as he spoke and more sausages slipped through his fingers. "I was a miserable son of a bitch to have been married... I understand why you wanted your divorce. I understand. Now you're free, like you wanted. You get your freedom without a divorce." His next words almost haunted me, for how un-Christian they sounded. "Find a good guy, Ana. Find someone who'll give you the things you need, not what you want. Diamonds aren't love. This is," He squeezed my hand hard before slacking a bit. "Didn't think I'd go like this, not with you by my side. You were a good wife, Ana. A good wife... better than I deserved. Thank you for coming back to me. It's all I wanted. You made my last dream come true. You came back to me."

While I felt like a hypocrite at his words, he heaved his last breath and finally escaped the mental and physical torture he was in since childhood. Tears erupted from my eyes and I bawled like a baby, wishing he had come to that conclusion long ago when we still had a chance. Long before his guts spilled on the ground.

I felt an hand on my shoulder and turned to look up and face Alistair. He had tears tracking from his eyes, although he made and effort to wipe them away. "Lass, I'm sorry."

Placing my hand atop his, I kissed it. "You heard everything?"

"Aye. 'Tis sad that he had his moment of clarity with you at a shitty time like this. Don't look surprised, Ana. If he had been the man you wanted, you wouldn't have left him, he'd be still alive and you'd be happy. Can't begrudge you happiness. I am very sorry that this happened. You were ready to be a divorcee, not a widow."

O'Malley's words both soothed and irritated me. That Christian died in my arms blew me away, because it seemed so surreal, while the man who now staked his claim on me, tried comforting me with logic. "We need to stay here, wait for the Game Warden."

With that out of my mouth, Alistar O'Malley pulled out the satellite phone and called Rusty again. "Rus? That trespasser got gored by a buck- he didn't make it. Yeah. Going to need the coroner. We're about a mile, mile and a half off the service road. Okay. Should I wait here? Will do. See you then." And then he hung up, only to dial another number. "Taylor? Hey. He got gored. Yeah. Didn't stand down, buck took offense. Sheriff, Game Warden, and Coroner are set to arrive in half an hour." O'Malley placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, "Yeah, she's fine."

But I wasn't, not really. Body, sure. But how does one cope seeing guts littering the forest floor? The stink of blood and intestines hanging in the air? I'm free of Christian Grey, but I don't know if I'll ever be free of the memories.

Those cursed fucking memories.

Sure, there was Alistar O'Malley... but after getting to know me and the things I've been party to, would he still want to stick around? My husband just died, and I'm not exactly obligated to mourn him, but I would. It'd give me time to sort out my own feelings. Fuck. I have to tell his family. But at least I can go home without fear. That's a good thing.

With that as my silver lining, I prepared for the next step in my evolution, whatever it would be.


	39. Chapter 38

_**TAYLOR**_

* * *

O'Malley brought a very shaken Ana to me via golf cart. "Take her somewhere safe." Without a sound, Ana got out of the Mule and made her way to the SUV, giving O'Malley a look that said much more than words could describe. His reminder to take care of her were the only thing he said before melting away into the night, aside from the look he returned to Ana.

I got in while she finished buckling up. "You okay?"

She lifted her face, her eyes devoid of emotion. "Not sure, yet. I saw everything. Tried...tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen."

Gruffly, I replied, "That's the story of his life."

With her attention on the road as I started the car and turned it about, she replied, "I know." The two words held more emotion that her face belied. She seemed to shake of most of her malaise. "Where to now?" I didn't know if she meant long or short term. Went with short term.

"First, the long house to pick up your gear. Second, to Redmond. I realize you are in a state of shock right now, but you can come out of hiding now."

As we approached the main strip running through Stoneyford, Ana turned and asked, "Is what we did illegal?" Concern ringed her eyes.

"Not completely, no. But there was no murder. He encroached on wilderness with no care. Mother Nature, in the guise of a deer, won."

She heaved a weary sigh. "What will I tell his family? That I ran off, he followed and ran into an angry animal?"

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?" I tried being patient, knowing it wouldn't last long. My concerns over my career dominated my thoughts. If its found out I orchestrated Grey's downfall, then my ass will get canned. It's wrong to take it out on the missus, but I needed her to be assured so I could be as well. "Look, you don't have to tell them anything more than you needed a break, went to a friend in Cali, and Grey stalked you. There's documented evidence that he's done so before, so it'll be no surprise. Fergie will vouch for your long standing friendship, if need be. If you prefer, we can have law enforcement inform his family, and you can keep your hands clean. It's up to you."

Kept my eyes on the road as we sat in silence. I assumed she was mulling over her options. When we reached the long house, she ran in and came back out in a scope of five minutes, carrying a large duffel bag slung over a shoulder. No longer wearing a shoulder holder, I assumed she left it inside for The Viking. When she got back into the car, she said with a shrug, "I had everything packed."

I pulled out of the driveway and headed to Redding. For almost two hours she sat in silence, and didn't speak a word until we spotted signs for the Redding Airport.

"I don't think I can tell his family without betraying my participation, little that it was."

"That's your choice, and we can work with it. I don't think his family will give you too much grief over you not being around a while, considering that Grey alienated himself from his folks. His sister knew you were gone, but she shouldn't be an issue."

Ana nodded her dark head before tucking an errant tress behind an ear. "I know. Just... scared. So much has changed."

Tried bringing levity to the conversation. "Look at it this way, you're now a rich widow. You've got a lot more potential now than you did before. You realize that, right?"

She gave half a smile. "I was called a gold digger before, and now I... shit, I don't know. The money didn't mean as much to me as it did to him."

It was my turn to shrug a shoulder. "If you believe in fate, then you are exactly where you are supposed to be in life. You've paid your dues, now enjoy what you can."

"Don't get me wrong- I hated the monster my husband became. But I didn't want him dead. I just wanted to be left alone. I think the first order will to get into therapy."

"A good choice." I debated telling Ana about Elena. While I waited at the SUV for my boss to finish frollicking in the woods, Gaia called to inform me that the info I gave her about the stud farm was golden- a body had been recovered, a blood trail found, and fragments of human remains found in the charred pump house. Too bad Grey won't stand trial for murder, but at least he ended up saving tax payers the hefty cost of a media circus trial. With how fragile Ana seems, it would serve no purpose to tell her about Elena. She would find out, just not from me. "Just so you know, warrants have been served on several of Grey's properties. So, you may want to stay in a hotel a while- the house and apartment will have been tossed. Probably get a cleaning crew supervised by Gail... that'll probably be the easiest way for you. Would you like me to make arrangements?"

Ana's mouth opened into a perfect O of surprise. "Warrants? Uh, yeah. That's probably best. Can always use the excuse that I went to a hotel first because I didn't want to be around Christian."

I nodded. "Okay. Consider it done." We pulled into the airport and she got out. I handed her the Washington State ID that had been recovered, and a wallet with two credit cards and a thousand dollars, cash. "Get settled. I'll make a reservation for you at the Four Seasons in Seattle. Get a cab, go there when you land."

The look of understanding lit her face. "You aren't coming with?"

Shook my head. "No, got a debriefing at the satellite FBI office here." I offered her a smile. "Today you begin your life anew, on your terms. Take whatever time you need. Get yourself some bodyguards, find something to throw yourself into, like a charity or something. Or try your hand at business. You've got opportunities, Ana. Rock what you got."

She smiled and grabbed her duffel bag. "Thank you. For everything. If I can make it up to you in any way, let me know."

I appreciated the sentiment, although I couldn't collect on the offer. "My pleasure, and until we meet again. Be safe. You don't want O'Malley coming after you in a huff, do you?" Meant as a joke, it didn't prepare me for her answer.

"I don't know, maybe I do want him huffing after me... he's got _incredible_ eyes." With a wink, she shut the Toyota's door and went to purchase a plane ticket home.

Home for me is wherever Gail happened to be. But would it be the same when she found out about my carefully crafted lies to infiltrate Grey's trust? Could she forgive me?

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I know I've been away a while, been working on other projects and doing the family thing. But here's a new offering with the promise of more... after all, Ana's got a lot of choices opened up to her right now, and in her state of mind, who knows what will happen!


	40. Chapter 39

_**ANA**_

* * *

Taylor's efficiency continued to blow me away. My room at the Four Seasons wasn't a mere room. A suite awaited with several vases of flowers, a gift basket of Lush toiletries, and a smaller one of exquisite chocolates and a bottle of champagne. Courtesy of Taylor or the hotel, I didn't know. Regardless, it prompted me to make my way to the bedroom, dump off my duffle bag, and snatch the basket of Lush goodies.

The bathroom to my suite had both a rain shower and a marble tub. Upon seeing the watery haven, I plugged and started the water running. From the wicker confines of the basket, I fished out a bubble bar. Blue Skies and Fluffy White Clouds- the scent of an Eastern spice market began perfuming the air while I unwrapped the parchment surrounding it and crumbled the bar beneath the tap. Closest I could get to heaven with my feet still on the ground.

Stripping my clothes off, I made a mental note to call Mrs. Jones and ask her to pack a bag for me. Have a courier pick it up and deliver it here, that way I could act like I am still wary of bumping into Christian. Still feels unbelievable that he's gone. Really, truly gone.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was leaner, more toned from living with Fergus. Now I moved with deliberate grace, of intentional movement and sureness. I looked like myself, but not. Wasn't the silly, naive girl anymore.

Taylor's words were correct; I now have unlimited possibilities. With that thought, I stepped into the tub, the hot water soaking the tension from my bones.

I needed a plan, something to look forward to once the truth about Christian gets out. There will be speculation, of course, but perhaps I can lay low and let it blow over. One can hope, anyhow. Filled my lungs with the steam-filled air and sunk beneath the water, my eyes tightly shut. This, this right here is what freedom felt like to me. Warm, safe. Christian can't hurt me any more. Never again.

Not sure what I could do with his wealth- can't wrap my head around the notion of it being mine, being that I didn't earn it, and Christian never let me handle any financial matters beyond the allowance he gave provided for me, and that I barely touched.

As my bathwater cooled to an unpleasant temperature, I emerged from the tub, wrapped about in a fluffy white towel and squeezed the excessive moisture from my hair. Made my way to the king size bed, where my duffle bag awaited me. From within its confines, I withdrew a long cotton chemise and clean panties. After toweling off, getting dressed, I then climbed into bed. Dimmed the lights and willed sleep to come. It wouldn't. But it wasn't my deceased spouse that occupied my mind.

It was Alistar O'Malley.

I'll never forget- even if I wanted too, the tender look in his eye as he bid me goodbye after taking me to Taylor.

He led me to the Mule, and drove us to the service road. Halfway there, he stopped the vehicle and turned it off. His voice, so soft and tentative, came pouring into my ears, saturating my mind with all the hidden meanings of the inflection carried by his words.

"Ana, I know you have seen something terrible tonight. Would that I could have spared you such a sight, but I couldn't. But if you ever need me, no matter how trivial it may sound to you, please, let me know. I'm staying on here with Fergie for a while. You have your cell phone? Good." He slipped me a folded piece of paper. I tucked it in the duffle bag and he continued. "That's my number. Seriously, lass. And if you ever want to talk for the hell of it, again, call me. I don't know what the future holds, but I know I'll be thinking of you. And maybe, you'll be thinking of me too."

"Thank you, Alistar. So much, but especially your compassion. I don't know if you realize how much it means to me."

He nodded his head, started the Mule back up and drove me to the service road.

Then he gave me the look, the look that spoke volumes of emotion and so much of it reserved for me. I felt the same, and in lieu of speaking aloud my feelings, I tried conveying my heart with my eyes.

Now here in Seattle, devoid of past or future, I lived for the now.

And right now, I wanted to talk to O'Malley. Flinging the covers from my body, I got out of bed, and dug into my makeshift suitcase for the paper containing O'Malley's phone number. Found it! Folded into quarters, I opened it up and read what he wrote in exquisite handwriting.

_Ana,_

_You are gone, off to a new life. I hope you find your happiness, so that you smile more,_  
_laugh more, feel more. That the shadows haunting you finally disappear._

_I can't give you the world. I can't soothe all troubled thoughts, can't take away your pain._  
_Whatever happens tonight, I want you to know I am here should you ever need me.  
_  
_Be it a figurative shoulder to cry upon, a mental hug, or if you ever want to see me again,_  
_let me know. _

_I care more than I should for you, I don't know why. Your smile, your laugh, your_  
_brave nature, or your heart... not sure what I adore more. But I want you to heal,_  
_to find your path through the forest of life. And if you wish for a companion, _  
_I am ever at your service, my lady of the spear._

_-O'Malley_

Beneath his signature, his phone number.

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring his beautifully written letter. I felt undeserving, that here was a guy who felt deeply for me, and I certainly felt attraction for him. Can't say I loved him, but I do miss him and his gentle teasing. I missed The Viking as well, but certainly not in the same way. Fergus felt like a protective older brother. O'Malley, well, he was a totally different with the feelings his presence evoked.

I wish I had kissed him, just once before we parted. To taste his lips, press my body against his, and create a memory to keep me warm on lonesome winter nights.

How I missed Alistar O'Malley.

With the folded note tucked beneath my pillow, I rested my head, closed my eyes. And in that moment, I knew what the first thing I would do when I get home would be.

The Magenta Room O'Torture is going to die.


	41. Chapter 40

**_GAIL_**

* * *

Upon entering the house, my heart wept for the mess made by law enforcement. All books were removed off shelves and left helter-skelter on the floor. Drawers throughout the building were pulled open, some dumped out and others left intact and made untidy. Everywhere I looked, something waited to be put back in its place and my anxiety levels spiked. While I understood the _why_, I hated that I had to clean this all up. It's bad enough having an employer who insists I wash his sex toys for him.

As if washing lube and blood off toys isn't disturbing enough. _Sigh. _Plugged headphones into my cellphone and activated Pandora. With tunes as motivation, I got busy getting things in order. If the boss came home, he'd have a shitfit with how things are, and I'd get blamed. 'Why didn't you clean up as they did this?' I can imagine him railing at me, kicking debris out of his way onto his sulking chamber to play the piano and work off his anger. The man could be so predictable.

Haven't heard anything from Jason. Hope he's safe from the boss' anger. When the boss flew off the other morning to join up with Jason, I heaved a huge sigh. Although my beloved Jason told me to go to my sisters, I didn't. I couldn't. If anything happened, I needed to know and being out of the realm of knowledge upset me. Of course, Jason didn't know that, how could I tell him? The best way to stay safe from a predator is to keep your eye on it so one can sidestep any swipes of a claw. That said, the worst thing aside from washing the sex toys was hearing the boss lay into the missus, hiding out in his gaudy whore-house inspired room. Knowing that she wanted free and I couldn't do anything without massive repercussion upset me. But at least Jason comforted me. The missus had no such thing- I know the boss never comforted her, not the way a person needs.

I felt sorry for the missus.

A phone call stopped my reverie and cleaning. As if thinking of the man conjured his vocal presence. I answered, "Hello, Jason." A smile lit my face, I could feel my lips forming a grin that the best man I've ever met and loved was thinking of me as I thought of him, and then reached out to contact me.

"Gail! So glad to hear your voice." He sounded dog-tired, and my heart beat harder in anticipation of cuddling next to his slumbering body. "Things have changed. Big time. You sitting down?"

As I sunk onto the floor in lotus position, I replied, "I am now. You alright? Everything okay?" The pounding of my heart changed tempo, more frantic than before at the thought of what could be so important that he basically suggest I brace myself.

He didn't hold back. "The boss died. He thought the missus was hiding in a forest and a big deer gutted him. He was warned by the property owners to leave, but he didn't. I'll be flying back with his remains. The missus is safe. She's staying at the Four Seasons there in Seattle. She's got bare essentials, so if it's not a problem, can you pack a bag for her? Somber stuff, she's mourning her marriage more than him right now. After I deliver the boss to the funeral home, I'll be at the house." His voice softened. "I miss you."

My heart fluttered with his sweet sentiment before everything else fully sunk into my head. "The boss... is dead? Do the police know? Because they left the house a disaster area. Been working on it for over an hour and there's still so much to do." I don't have a job now, being that my employer is deceased. Perhaps the missus will keep me on, perhaps not, maybe she associates me with her husband.

"I'll help you when I get there. Take it easy, okay Gail?"

I loved that he offered to help. I could imagine getting on my knees and adoring him forever if he vacuumed. Best fantasy ever. "Thank you, Jason. See you when?"

"Three hours, I'm thinking."

My heart sank a little. I hoped he would say an hour, tops. With the house a mess, and the boss gone, it upset me, I'm not afraid to admit. "Okay. See you then."

He hung up without saying goodbye. Maybe he's really tired? Or perhaps the call got cut. What if I said something that upset him? But what? Deep sigh. Try not to read too much into it. After all, he's a body guard and his boss died- I don't think that's going to look so good on his resume. Poor Jason, he needs a hug.

Back to cleaning, making stacks of papers to be sorted through later and assembling little odds and ends like pens and ketchup packets in a small plastic bucket. After a while, I made my way to the master bedroom to assemble a suitcase for the missus. The bedroom was in as much shambles as the rest of the house. Went to the closet and gathered several outfits. From the dresser, I fetched underpinnings. Shut the suitcase, put it on the floor and then extend the handle to roll it through the house to the entry way. As I passed through the hall, I noticed the door open to the 'play room' and saw that everything was gone, with the exception of the bed and St. Andrew's Cross.

My, they were thorough.

After depositing the suitcase by the front door, I wandered to the kitchen and tackled that mess. Silverware lay upon the floor, along side pots and pans, cooking utensils, spices and pantry goods. After sweeping up the pound of coffee beans from in front of the stainless steel stove, I felt my anger boil. A lot of it was directed at those responsible for carelessly flinging things aside in their quest to find incriminating evidence. But an even larger amount was aimed at a dead man who would never feel my passive-aggressive ire for his being. Hell, with all the cabinets gutted, I might as well rewash and organize everything.

Lost in my little world, I nearly jumped out of my skin when arms wrapped around me from being while I was elbow-deep in dishwater.

He plucked the earbuds from their resting place and breathed a sultry, "Hello Gail," into my ear.

Shivers ran from the top of my head and down my spine, like a slalom of excitement. "Jason!" I removed my hands from the warm water, hastily dried them on a dish towel, then turned to face the man who held my heart. Heavy bags sat under his eyes, tell tale indicators of his lack of sleep. "Oh, honey. You look terrible."

A half-smile tried emerging on his face. "I _feel_ terrible."

I grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to my room. I hoped it wasn't trashed, and luckily it wasn't. I suppose the hired help's rooms weren't as interesting as the rest of the house. Pushed him onto the bed and laid next to him. "I suppose you can take a shower first, but I want you to rest. If the missus is at a hotel and the boss isn't going to show up soon, I'm sure we can let the house sit as is for a night."

Jason sat up and bowed his head down. "I don't deserve you, Gail. Not that you're an object and without opinion, but I think you could do better than me. I haven't been forthright with you."

A knot formed in my throat. "Are you... married?"

He shook with a deep and short-lived laugh. "Hell no, not any more. Gail, it's nothing like that. It's worse." He turned to face me and I could see the sorrow eating away at him. "I've lied to you from day one. I was hired by the boss as a bodyguard, but I was placed in his way by the FBI. I am Special Agent Jason Taylor McArgus. I stuck to the boss because of his involvement with Elena Lincoln. She was under investigation for human trafficing and child pornography, among other things."

_Cold_.

I felt cold. Not so much from his revelation about his identity, but that horrible woman was worse than I thought. "I knew you weren't who you said you were when you told me what to do with the bloodstained clothing. A bodyguard would be more concerned with not incriminating his employer. You, however, weren't going with that angle."

Unease filled Jason, causing his spine to stiffen and his shoulders to straighten. "You did?"

"Yes. I have my own confession." It was my turn to feel dread and face potential rejection.

His eyes clouded with apprehension- I'm assuming apprehension because that's what I felt. "What?"

I swallowed hard and met his gaze. "I'm pregnant."

* * *

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE**_

Sorry it's been a while! Life and other projects have taken a front seat. But because it's been forever, I'm offering as a giftie for ya'll, a free novel (ends monday midnight) called A Toast to Starry Nights - it's special to me in so many ways- and it's available on Kindle here - amzn . to/ 1g G4aYd


	42. Chapter 41

_**TAYLOR**_

* * *

With blood thundering in my ears, I felt faint. Here I laid my heart at Gail's feet, and she one-upped me in the shock department with her proclamation that she was pregnant. Fear lurked in her eyes, I could tell. Reached out, took her hand.

"I...when? How far along?" Despite our many pillow-talk sessions, we really never covered the pregnancy-contingency topic. Need to gather facts before rendering a decision.

Gail gulped and said, "About eight weeks. But that's not _all, _Jason."

What else could there be? Her ex husband trying to come back into her life? A deceased parent? "Tell me, Gail. Don't hold back." Whatever it was, I knew it was important to her, by the hesitant way she'd start a sentence then stop and reform her thoughts, only to begin anew.

"I, uh, um... Oh shit, Jason. I don't know how to tell you!" Tears began trailing down her face, so I gathered her into my arms and held her until the sobs ceased, and still didn't let go. After a few moments, she seemed to gather her thoughts and said very low, "I'm not sure you are the father. The boss- you know how he's been drinking heavy since the missus left? One night, he... he... I woke up, thinking it was you touching me. He kept calling me by the missus' name and I was so scared, I didn't move. I couldn't even scream because I was so scared of what else he would do to me."

If Christian Grey wasn't already dead, I would send him to Hell myself. Rage seethed within the pit of my stomach. I held Gail tighter. "Are you okay? What do you want to do?"

The sobs started again and I felt lost bringing the woman I loved back from the pain she felt. "I don't know, Jason. Are you mad at me?"

My heart crumpled like a paper in the wastebasket at the thought that she feared my anger toward her for the actions of another. "No, never mad at you. At him... yeah. Very angry at him. But this explains why you started locking your bedroom door at night." Held her to my chest, my chin rested upon the top of her head.

"I was so scared to tell you or what he'd do to me for telling anyone. I still can't believe he's gone and can't hurt me."

I pulled away from Gail, away from the only woman who made me feel that being a two-faced bastard wasn't a horrible thing and said something I knew could backfire. "Gail, honey... I need to know if that was a one time thing, or whether he has a history of assaulting you."

Tear-spiked lashes revealed her horror. "It...I...a few times." Her grip on my hand slackened and she sniffled. "You must hate me, I didn't stop him."

"Hold on, wait there a moment. First off, I don't hate you. Far from it. I'm upset that after living with Grey for years, didn't realize the depth of his depravity. He put you in a shitty position, Gail, and at least it won't happen ever again." My mind raced with all the repercussions of my late-boss' actions. So much about Gail became clear, like the recent door-locking thing. Why she preferred sleeping in my room, why she would become a quiet waif in the presence of Grey.

Could feel the tears burning my eyes. I failed to protect this woman and that's two for two when it comes to the estrogen in the house. Dammit! Right under my nose and poor Gail... to end up pregnant on top of it all. Was it mine? Could I pretend it's mine? Maybe she'd prefer to abort, can't blame her if she did, but it's her choice.

As my mouth opened to speak, my cell phone rang. Saw that it was Elliot._ Shit_, the family must have gotten the news. "I have to take this call, then we'll finish talking, Gail. You have my word." She nodded as I stood up and exited her bedroom.

"Taylor."

Elliott's words slurred together as if he spoke in cursive. "Where were you? What did you do to my _brudder_?"

Impatience lit my soul afire. He avoided his brother so he could stay in the will. He was trying to stir a shit pot and I could promise he wouldn't like the results. "Sir, your brother trespassed onto private property and ignored several warnings to leave. I couldn't change his mind anymore than the land owners did."

"He's dead because of you! Why was he out in the sticks anyhow, eh? He hates the outdoors. You know why he was there, you just aren't telling. I'm going to go to the media and blast that my brother was murdered... and that you played a hand in it."

"You'd be lying and going against the evidence handled by the coroner. You'd bring negative publicity to you and your family. You'd also have to deal with the FBI, so you might want to rethink your plans."

"FBI, you're bullshitting me... Gonna go and get justice for my brudder... and if you don't want me to, it'll cost you."

Ha. Blackmail, really now? "_Cost me_?" Oh, fuck this guy in his ear, he's got no idea what'll come for him. Gaia would nail his nuts to a stump and kick him over backwards for shits and giggles.

"Yeah. Where's muh sister-in-law, or she dead, too?"

"No sir, she is very much alive and traumatised." He never shown much interest in the welfare of the missus before. Struck me as odd.

"I don't believe you. She's dead, too, and you buried her." Heard him take a swig of some liquid and smack his lips.

"Sir, whether or not you believe me is irrelevant. Fact is that she's safe and under the protection of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and will remain so for the time being. If you wish to contact her, I can help you with that, but if it's just to extort funds from her, you _will_ be stopped."

Elliot's tone changed from demanding to mellow. "You misunderstand me, I'm concerned for her. Being married to Christian can't be easy and she's been awful quiet the past few weeks. No one has seen or spoken to her. She's all but reported missing."

"She has her reasons for laying low."

"Well, let me spell it out like this: she better be at the funeral or there'll be Hell to pay. Not from me. But there is someone out there who needs to see Ana alive and well if Kate is to remain alive and well."

"What?" What did I miss when I was off escorting a madman?

His voice broke. "My wife is missing. Kate's gone. And all I got was a note stating that an exchange will be made. My wife for Christian's. I don't want to turn her over, but what am I supposed to do?"

_Sober up_ came to mind. "Call the police." Seriously, hasn't this family learned by now? Between the ex-sub gone postal and kidnapped wife, shouldn't the answer be obvious?

Elliot hiccuped. "Can't. I notify law enforcement and they'll send me Kate, piece by piece."

My mind raced at the twist and turns of being involved with this family and its drama. Fuck it. "No, they won't."

It's time to end this shit.

Between the fact of my involvement with Grey's fate, my career at stake, potential fatherhood, and now someone is playing a game of hostage, I've fucking had it. Must find out who is responsible for Kate Grey's disappearance and put an end to it.

Because if this shit ends well, I plan on getting on bended knee and asking for Gail's hand. But can't do that until this bullshit is over and peace settles in for a long stay. Which makes me wonder if that's even a possibility.


	43. Chapter 42

ANA

* * *

My time at the Four Seasons was up. A week of respite while the world buzzed with the news of Christian's death. Kept in touch with Taylor who still maintained his bodyguard role and put me in touch with a PR company. Felt that a publicist would be a good idea, being that I didn't want to be in the public's eye. Nancy Kollsing's professional demeanor seemed reassuring, considering her specialty lay in litigation public relations.

She met me in my suite at the Four Seasons and with help from Allen Horris, Christian's lawyer assigned to the will and other assorted matters, we came up with a plan to deal with the media swirling around my husband's demise. Through the same company Nancy worked for, we also acquired the skills of PR rep Sarah Softman.

A petite red-headed woman with a sharp look in her brown eyes, Sarah stood clad in a cornflower blue Valentino suit next to the table where Allen, Nancy and myself sat listening. Various photocopies of magazine, blog and newspaper reports concerning the life and times of Christian Grey were strewn across the table's top, a reminder of how real the situation was. "The thing is that his notoriety shot up when TMZ did the expose on Elena Lincoln. Four more victims have announced themselves to the world and so it's been seething in the media since her disappearance. So the deceased's funeral is considered prime paparazzi material. That can't be allowed, not with the seriousness of the allegations against him and Lincoln."

Nancy nodded, "The fact they shared business ventures together, ergo made a profit together, is under a lot of scrutiny, and some of that will fall onto you, Ana. There is speculation that you may have known in depth their business practices."

I raised my chin and stated, "I was adamantly against his involvement in Elena's life, in every way. My husband kept me in the dark regarding his business, felt it wasn't my place to know. As for Elena Lincoln and her business, I am in the dark. She and I resented each other and our role in my husband's life." I wouldn't mention the abuse; hers of him, or his of me. Still processing everything and I needed to keep my focus on getting through the growing media circus flowering from the fertilizer of gossip, scandal, and atrocity. That had been reinforced by the one time I turned on the television in the hotel suite. Major coverage. TV stayed on a total of twenty minutes as I surfed from news channel to news channel, each revealing how truly fucked up the situation seemed.

Sarah replied, "Doesn't matter. Humanity thrives on slime, and if they see some, it's assumed its on everything surrounding said bit of slime. We can assert that you had no knowledge of the situation, that Lincoln was a fixture of the deceased's life. So here's what Nancy and I have come up with, and will implement with your approval. First, we release an announcement that the family wishes to address the situation in a press conference. This will get all the attention because everyone's been quiet thus far. Mr. Horris can do the announcement, or another attorney retained by the deceased or we can. Either way, we arrange for the funeral to happen _during_ the announcement, that way media attention is diverted from infringing upon the family's mourning."

I slowly nodded. "I'd like to have a statement read at said press conference, if that's okay. It'll get more attention if it's noted that his wife will be making a statement, right?"

Nancy nodded her greyed head. "Oh, definitely. Most will hope it'll be a damnation or something equally juicy."

Turning to face Allen Horris, I asked, "What do you suggest?"

Allen, a balding man in his mid-sixties answered, "Establish that we're helping law enforcement any way we can and lay low. Things will get uglier before it gets better, I imagine."

* * *

The day of the press conference, I found myself in a limousine with Christian's family. It was awkward, filled with stilted conversation. The only one missing was Mia. When asked, I was reassured that she was ill and unable to make it to the service. And then the revelation that Kate had been kidnapped appeared. "What do you mean she's gone? Have you contacted the police?" I questioned Elliot, who first answered by taking a chug of his hip flask.

"No. We go to police, they'll send me her head." He gulped. "They want you in exchange. Hey, don't look at me like that! I told your bodyguard about it."

I took a deep breath and wished I had the Sig Sauer pistol tucked in my purse. At least Taylor knew, and if he knew, odds are the FBI does too. That's a good thing. "They can try to take be, but it won't be pretty." Not for them. Since leaving the Longhouse, I kept up with the exercise regime I learned from Fergus. Did the katas every morning, shadow boxing invisible foe with my imaginary spear. I'm not without my built in defenses.

Grace and Carrick looked to each other. "What are you talking about?" Evidently they didn't know of Kate's disappearance as evidenced by Grace's question to her son.

"Two men came in the dead of night while she and I were asleep. Put a gun to her head, said she'd die if I screamed for help, and that they'd send her back to me in pieces if I contacted the police. Took it to heart. They want you, Ana, in exchange. Didn't know what to do... or if Kate is okay."

By the time we arrived at the cemetery, Elliot was in tears while Grace and Carrick held onto each other, seeming to gain strength as a unit. In black, veiled, my expression wasn't readily visible. Did pull out my phone and text Taylor, "Elliot says I should expect to be traded to some kidnappers."

Two minutes later I got a reply. _It's been taken care of and forgive me if I overstepped bounds with the security detail I arranged._

_"_Well, Elliot, the bodyguard has arranged things. With how high-profile the past few weeks have been, there'll probably be law enforcement hidden among the mourners."

Grace nodded, "That seems likely."

We arrived at the cemetery, trailing after the hearse from the funeral home. A pastor awaited us in the shade of cypress and elm trees. Not many were notified of the funeral- pretty much just family. After exiting the limo, I walked to the chaplain and shook his hand. Skin, paper-thin and tinged with liver spots grasped my own. "If I can can offer any solace, just let me know."

I nodded and replied, "He's out of his suffering. That matters." It's as diplomatic as I could be, considering the circumstances. I loved him, once. Until I realized the real him, tortured and enabled at the hands of Elena Lincoln.

The plot was open, a gaping wound in the earth. Rectangular, the shape of Christian's coffin with a little room to spare. The pastor said a prayer for Theo's soul while the elaborate casket found its resting place. Another facet of my husband I didn't know about: he had his whole funeral planned long before he and I met. Casket had been purchased already, he had just kept it in storage. Wouldn't have known about it, except his will detailed it all and Allen informed me.

The funeral service didn't last long. As the few people faded away, I became aware of two people standing next to me. I looked up into the terrified eyes of Kate, her blonde hair a mess of tangles. The black dress she wore didn't fit her, and the stockings had runs in them. "Kate?"

I reached out to engulf her in a hug, when the man standing next to her stepped forward and said, "Not so fast."

I looked into his eyes, a seemingly unnatural color of bright lime green. White, pasty skin indicated a preference for indoors. "Who are you?"

"Just a spiderling. She can stay, but you must come with me." This man in a black silk suit with skinny tie didn't understand.

"I don't think so. You'll let her go, and you'll turn around and leave. You won't enjoy dealing with the SheBeast I'll become."

He laughed and put a hand on my shoulder.

Wrong move, bucko.

Grabbed his hand, twisted it into a wrist lock. With his arm immobilized, I struck his elbow, breaking the radius and ulna. Did a palm strike on his trapped wrist, popping out the broken bones at his elbow and twisted the wrist inward, making his hand look like a goose neck and causing him to draw his arm toward his stomach. Perfect. With all my weight behind me, I jabbed the broken bones into his stomach. He fell to the ground, moaning in agony as shock raged though his body.

A yelp caught me off guard, and as I whirled around, two men were locked in hand-to-hand combat. One gave the other a cheap shot between the legs before punching him in the face. I assumed a battle stance until I noted who the victor was.

"Alistair O'Malley?"

He saluted me with two fingers held up to his forehead. "Hail shieldmaiden."

* * *

**Author's Note**

Howdy! It's been quite a while since I've updated this tale. I've been a busy bee, working on book reviews, beta reading novels, minding minions AND giving this story a huge overhaul (like extra chapters and stuff!) over at broken toys novel dot wordpress dot com, pretty much redoing it to be a stand-alone, in the vein of 'what if a rich dude with troubled past had issues with the women in his life?' and there we have it. It's got more erotica, some bondage (and abuse wearing the guise of BDSM) and a kilted Scotsman, and an awkward wedding in the first chapter.


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